Here are the final three stories nominated in the Short Story category. Part I here. Now, we look in the face of storms, go back to the worst of the British Raj, and walk the stacks of alien libraries. Stick around to the end, where I unveil my favorite.
And Now His Lordship is Laughing
Shiv Ramdas
As a rule, I don’t particularly like “wrong and revenge” stories. Death Wish lingers way too long on the horrors of the wrong and then on the horrors of the revenge, and it’s not the only one by a long shot.
But I like this one.
The wrong: The British “Denial of Rice” policy, which was sadly and horrifically real.
The revenge: A doll.
That’s really all you need to know to know why you need to read this story. It navigates the narrow line between the two extremes of this kind of revenge story, it neither forgives its offenders and tries to make them somehow likable, nor does it fetishize either the violence each side does. It doesn’t shy away from it either, the list of trigger warnings is half as long as my arm, but it describes the grim details without lust in its voice. I hammer on this because so, so, so many revenge fantasies fail this, and then you have to shower afterwards.
Instead, “And Now His Lordship Is Laughing” contributes to the ongoing conversation about the British presence in India, especially during World War II, and whether or not they were as bad as the Nazis and fascists they opposed. I can’t weigh in on this conversation, except to say the British in this story are not doing themselves any favors there. But this story is every bit as engaging, and troubling, as Harry Turtledove’s “The Last Article” or Orwell’s obituary of Gandhi.
You should read it.
Gibbous
A Catalog of Storms
Fran Wilde
I won’t lie, I didn’t like this story much at first.
I mean, the opening line is excellent:
“The wind’s moving fast again. The weathermen lean into it, letting it wear away at them until they turn to rain and cloud.”
A Catalog of storms
That’s some “clocks were just striking thirteen”-grade opening material.
But that seemed to be where this particular cli-fi/fantasy stopped. Characters came and went, we danced between lists and narrative, it was very emotional, but it just didn’t seem to go anywhere, even when it finally went somewhere.
So what changed my mind? The power of names, and how Fran Wilde uses them, the way A. C. Wise did with titles in “How the Trick is Done“, only more developed? The weird, off-kilter, Bioshock: Infinite air? Or maybe just the power of that opening line?
It was the way I kept hearing snatches of narrative, a day later. The way I could see Lillit go in my mind several days later. The way I started making lists of social and spiritual storms as my prayer beads sat to one side.
Good stories stick with you. Good stories stick with you long after the title and author have fled your mind, so much detritus in the wind and weather. I don’t particularly like this story, still, but I have to admit it is a good story.
Quarter
Give the Family My Love
A. T. Greenblatt
I’ve saved this one for last, because I think this story is going to win the Nebula. It sure as Hell deserves it.
It’s an epistolary little tale, all one-sided, from Hazel “the last astronaut” to her brother Saul (and his wife Huang) as she treads across a barren planet and into an alien Library. She talks about the barren planet, and about the aliens, and about her research, and about the information she’s looking for and why.
She also talks a lot about how badly humanity has doomed itself, because she’s an anthropologist and has read a lot of history. She watched the Great Plains burn and the Pacific Northwest with it. She’s the last astronaut, not because she wants to, but because she was the only one qualified and because there’s not enough resources for astronauts. She doubts whether there’ll be resources for a government in the near future.
And she talks about hope, because in the end, that’s what this story is about. Whenever anyone talks about ‘hopepunk,’ they can refer to this story as their Exhibit A. It treats Saul’s hope as a subversive stance, Hazel’s pessimism as the only sound and sensible approach. We don’t get to hear Saul’s side, but we hear his influence, feel the shadow of his long arm.
And in the end, it might just save the world. Might. Ya gotta have hope.
And, honestly, it’s stories like this that made me read science fiction in the first place.
Full
Next time: Novelettes, the forgotten length. Tune in next week, same time, same channel!
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