A much needed update and moment of reflection Master List of Prose and Context Articles Click here to view my archive of posts on Substack. You can search it for keywords to find posts on ADHD, queerness, book titles, authors, reviews, specific themes and more. You can also sort by those with the most views and those with comments. Last time I tried to make and maintain a list, but assigning each article exactly one category quickly became patently ridiculous: just take my review of The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, which should absolutely be listed under both my Vampires series and my book reviews, plus ideally under a topic related to colonialism. I looked into creating a spreadsheet with appropriate tags... but in the end I think the Substack archive is going to be just as effective 99% of the time. If you prefer, you can try the same on Medium or my website, though I think Substack's search function is currently the most useful. 'Library for Lonely Dreamers', painting by Sofia Mata Reflecting on Last Time It's been a little over fourteen months – roughly half the life of Prose and Context – since the previous iteration of this post, which you can find here. I won't reiterate everything I said therein, but I hope it's a useful comparison and marker for how far we've come in the past year. I'll be the first one to say that Prose and Context looks very different today than it did in March 2025 and before. I barely understood formatting, never mind managing consistency in it. I'm sad to remember that for a few months in 2024 I was using AI art, before more firmly realizing that sharing properly attributed human art is just better for everyone. For whatever reason, I was also dead-set on my little series and categories: "Swift Riffle" and "Lyrical" and "Starting Points" and the like, which were probably helpful in getting me writing but became constraining over time and were certainly an absolute bane to SEO. As I said at the time, I'm incredibly proud of the seven or so months I was writing two articles here per week. The structure and productivity of those days was eye-opening, as was the ever-creeping danger of creative burnout. Since then I've found a healthy social life and new hobby, and have fallen back in love with stories and storytelling – be it in books, music, film or elsewhere. Art by MK Cooper / Bearded_Artist_Studios My Promise (May 2026) My promise to my readers is to weekly share my researched perspective on a piece of media or a trend in media. With rare exceptions, my intent is for each article: to be relevant to navigating and understanding the world around us, to share a piece of media that is meaningful to me, and to reflect on my personal journey and growth. You may have noticed that while my previous categories of posts have faded away, my Book Reviews & Analyses have become more and more frequent recently. It turns out people are far more likely to read them, and it's also been far more comfortable for me to simply lay out all my thoughts on a book at once, rather than trying to keep many books' details in my head for when I happen to find overlaps. Not every post will be a book review, but I think going forward it will be a fairly even ratio of reviews and other posts – perhaps even alternating. My reviews will always open with a spoiler free section, including either a recommendation of the book or of stronger alternatives. Beyond that, I promise to live up to the title and offer world-relevant analysis rather than simple regurgitation of the plot. 'Captain Goat' by Monica Glastetter / riotingknucklehead Oar Up, Head Down Another thing you may have noticed is my recent fascination with the music of Avatar, and today's article got me properly thinking about their song 'Captain Goat' (video above and off the same recent album as 'Death and Glitz') for the first time. The dark metal sea shanty is sung from the perspective of a ship's crew facing storm and rocks, putting all their faith and hope in Captain Goat to row them home. The repeated "oar up, head down" reflects that they must obey and work, and never think for themselves. It's literally the stuff of cults and fascism and late stage capitalism. And yet when I made the connection earlier today, it was a positive association with consistently putting the work into this blog, somewhat blindly trusting in another creative and hopeful side of myself. Of course, the video ends with the crew unceremoniously falling overboard and drowning, while their fearless guide and leader continues on. If only there was a lesson there... Perhaps the song and music video deserve a more thorough look at some point! But at least for today, they've been a powerful reminder to be mindful and thoughtful, and to enjoy the strange ironies when and where they arise. And what's this post about if not mindfulness; reassessing rather than continuing unthinkingly in the direction I was previously going? Thanks for reading and until next time <3

A Faustian Dragon tale for our times “All Hail the King” Where do you start with a tome like this? Straightforwardly, I suppose. King Sorrow (2025) by Joe Hill is a 897-page work of horror/fantasy – that genre descriptor being conveyed quite effectively at even a first glance by the dragon’s head adorning the cover, featuring both a bloody pentagram on its forehead and a crowd of figures illuminated in its fiery maw. I want to spoil as little as possible in this top section, partly because the journey of discovery about this book’s scope and subject matter was so rewarding for me. On the other hand, I think it’s fair to discuss a little of the book’s background and influences – mostly in hopes that it will convince more folks to give the book a shot. Though he writes under a pen name in order to work, live and succeed outside his father’s shadow, Joe Hill was born Joseph Hillström King, to a certain Stephen King. And I don’t bring that connection up to pad word count or idly gossip: in many ways, King Sorrow is a heartfelt tribute to Stephen King’s life work. Hill includes easter eggs large and small to King’s books – the main one I noticed, as a moderately knowledgeable fan at best, being to The Gunslinger. But I also found that this felt like a King novel, both structurally and thematically, while also standing magnificently as its own work. I’ve written before about my favourite King stories, The Shining and Doctor Sleep, and I deeply appreciate how King Sorrow likewise explores characters’ journeys and relationships with alcohol – a topic of extreme importance to King. But without further ado let’s jump into the meat of the book. As always, consider checking it out for yourself before proceeding! Spoilers ahead. King Sorrow, cover art by Alan Dingman Raising the Stakes King Sorrow follows a group of six characters: Arthur Oakes, Colin Wren, twins Donovan (Van) and Donna McBride, Allison (Allie) Shiner and Gwen Underfoot. The six become attached while the former five are students at the fictional Rackham College, with Gwen being the daughter of Colin’s family’s caretaker who joins and befriends them. The premise is simple enough to begin. Arthur's mother, Erin Oakes, is serving a sentence for manslaughter – having tried to save the life of an injured officer while trespassing in a pacifist protest. Jayne Nighswander, daughter of Erin's fellow inmate Daphne Nighswander, begins threatening Erin's life in order to have Arthur steal rare books for her from Rackham's library. This escalates until Arthur is forced to steal the grim and mysterious Crane Journal, around the same time a public confrontation finally has him bringing his friends in on the situation. Before turning the Journal over to Jayne, the group spends an alcohol- and marijuana-filled day reading the text, and by evening have decided to attempt a ritual it describes: to summon and bargain with the dragon King Sorrow. (Reminiscent of scenes in The Secret History and The Magicians, and certainly symbolic of addled bad ideas the world over.) The ritual is fantastic and fantastical, and the audiobook narrator makes a wonderful meal out of every single line from the dragon. Ultimately, the group succeeds in sending King Sorrow after Jayne Nighswander and her boyfriend, with the agreement that someone has to die on Easter morning, no matter what. Days later, they realize this was not in fact a drug-induced hallucination, and eventually attempt to warn Jayne and Ronnie into fleeing. Working together the group easily and deftly overpower Jayne and Ronnie and give them the bare facts. Although the book doesn't say it outright, it's tragic to see how easily the problem could've been solved without them employing the nuclear option. Not that the warning matters; Jayne roasts and Ronnie is chewed into a dozen pieces. Then, the following year, King Sorrow returns to ask who'll be dying this Easter. And thus the Faustian tragedy truly begins to unfold. It's funny to look back at my early thoughts on the book, imagining Jayne and Ronnie as the main antagonists rather than the pitiful victims of the book's prelude; imagining the setting would stay confined to Rackham College in the 1980s. Not so much. In fact, every time I thought I had a grasp on King Sorrow's scope, I was pages away from having the rug pulled out from under me. That's as much linear plot as I've got room for, though I'll reference plenty of later events and themes as I get into analyzing King Sorrow's characters and morals below. As a matter of fact, I've only spoiled as much as the back of the book does so far – a fair example of why I try to never read those. King Sorrow, art by Thomas Merceron for The New York Times Test of Character King Sorrow begins with Arthur's point-of-view, but eventually expands to give each of the six significant time in the spotlight – both to follow their current narrative and to get a closer, personal look at important moments in their pasts. Arthur himself is pretty much a good guy, though not someone to go out of his way to find a perfect solution when a simpler, decent one is put before him. Thus, stealing the books, summoning the dragon, and later continually agreeing with Colin's picks for King Sorrow's targets. I love that Arthur goes on to be a professor and to uncover other supernatural aspects of the world, I love his self-help/activism book on modern dragon-slaying, and I deeply appreciate seeing a Black character as the book's primary protagonist. Other than an awkward early intimate scene which is more fully explained much later, he's the simple and likeable rock upon which the story is founded. Colin is pretty much everything wrong with the world. The wealthy one of the group, Colin is easily the most interested in King Sorrow from the moment he gets his hands on the Crane Journal. After Jayne's death and while the rest are still coming to terms with their guilt, he begins researching and suggesting individuals from among the most evil in the world to send King Sorrow after each year. Over the decades of the book's story, he becomes a billionaire tech CEO and it's revealed that some of his targets were slightly more personal – wiping out the competition – than he led his friends to believe. An essential contrast between Arthur and Colin is their polar opposite views of technology, which Joe Hill sets up and pays off very well, painful as it may be. Donovan is another good guy, and mostly a balancing weight for his twin. Big spoilers: He dies first, and honestly his loss feels significantly more important than his presence did. Donna is forever scarred from watching a friend be abducted as a child. Her survivor's guilt long ago became infected with xenophobic rage, leading her to express wildly conservative views early in the book and later become a literal Fox News anchor. When rifts begin to form in the group, she is swayed to Colin's side by horrible lies that nonetheless match her paranoid and hateful worldview. It's Donna who most memorably says "All Hail the King", because unlike Colin's calculations and schemes, Donna just loves that King Sorrow makes her imagined enemies burn. Allison hurts, y'all. She's lesbian, and was sent to conversion therapy in her teens where she was sexually assaulted and told that her attraction to women was a form of self-punishment – a horrible 'lesson' she spends most of the book believing. In love with Donna, who later uses this to manipulate her awfully, and in a messy relationship with Donovan, she takes up the bottle early and struggles with alcoholism for a long time. Thankfully (and all but uniquely among the cast), she finds happiness and self-redemption toward the end. Gwen's great where Arthur's good, having immense empathy and going out of her way to improve people's lives. Guilty about her role in bringing King Sorrow into the world and the lives he takes, Gwen becomes a paramedic and saves thousands – though of course it's never enough. She picks up main protagonist duties from Arthur at a certain point and it works wonderfully. King Sorrow interior art by Peng Lu for Black Crow Books Morals & Morality King Sorrow's epilogue all but breaks the fourth wall in coming out and saying that the eponymous dragon is a metaphor for American drone strikes and ideas of preventative killings in general. Gwen and Robin (a wonderful trans woman who joins the cast about halfway through the book) continue to watch cataclysmic fires unfolding even after King Sorrow has been dealt with, and realize that theirs wasn't the only dragon in the world. It feels to me as though Hill added that scene (markedly in 2022) out of frustration with current events and a desire to have King Sorrow make a lasting impression on readers. On the other hand, Colin's character has become far more real since 2022 with the rise of Peter Thiel and Palantir. How different is a malevolent dragon from an AI? The characters of King Sorrow spend a lot of time considering the ramifications of their actions, and Joe Hill does a great job tying it all into real historical events. As with real life, how many new threats are created every time one is preventatively eliminated? In addition to the book's exploration of homophobia, alcoholism, manipulation, transphobia, racism, online (and literal) trolls, the nature of power and so much more, it offers a reminder that we're all ultimately human. Allison and later even hate-spewing Donna ultimately find themselves and course correct. Colin's obsession with power and control consume him in the end, but in his final moments we see the terrified boy underneath the facade. King Sorrow interior art by Peng Lu for Black Crow Books From the Heart I loved this book, and I find it abundantly clear that Joe Hill does too. A few other highlights, then a couple critiques, then I'll say farewell. I really enjoyed Daphne Nighswander's interludes, a shot fired at the group from almost the beginning of the novel and which only hits them near the end. All the dragon and other fantasy stuff was excellent, as were the important supporting characters like Robin, Erin, Tana and Llewellyn. It's fascinating that drinking King Sorrow's tears is described as such a pleasant death, one's soul igniting – listen to today's song above which I think is a great fit!(There's certainly more, but only so much time and space.) Critiques (all framed by more positives apparently): while it's fantastic to have the final confrontation be all women up against the dragon, I found the sudden emphasis on so much witty banter between them a little jarring I loved the idea of the government coming in and trying to first eliminate, then harness King Sorrow for themselves, and their sudden kidnapping of the McBrides – but hard to believe they really just gave up and walked away forever after Easter the group all have tattoos that let them summon King Sorrow in self-defense, and it comes with a price of rapidly aging them (very cool!) except Allie uses it a bunch to avoid capture and we never see it affecting her? King Sorrow is a highlight of King Sorrow, go figure. The nightmares Jayne experiences are simply incredible – especially being broadcast into Arthur and Gwen's heads as they are. Sadly, that aspect of him rarely comes up later on, even when one of the main characters becomes his new target! I was missing him for quite a while in the last chunk of the book, though he's great in the final confrontation of course. Anywho. My longest article in a while, perhaps ever, for a long and spectacular novel. Give it a read if you're able and interested! For now, I return to the Long Dark to dream of fire. Thanks for reading and until next time <3

Two surreal horror stories about power, with surface similarities and vast differences Have Your Library Card? I think I’ve mentioned once or twice in the past that The Library at Mount Char (2015) is among my favourite novels; perhaps also that I have a tradition of reading it every year in December since I first discovered Scott Hawkins’ best and only work in 2022. I’m always on the lookout for books that can come close to the dazzling scope and imagination of what Mount Char achieves – check back next week for my review of one such rare gem – and so was intrigued when Cassandra Khaw’s The Library at Hellebore (2025) was chosen for one of my book clubs this month. I can’t find any source to confirm Khaw was inspired by Hawkins, but I think the similar title, structure, themes and well, almost everything is conclusive enough for me. It’s certainly not a carbon copy, though, with Khaw’s intensely descriptive style an overwhelming and impossible to ignore difference. If you’re going to read one of these novels with no more information than that, I’ll recommend The Library at Mount Char one hundred percent of the time. If you want more reasons as to why, follow me into the spoilers ahead. The Library at Mount Char, Midworld Press Edition, art by Robert Carter On Library Premises The Library at Mount Char follows Carolyn, kidnapped as a child along with eleven others to learn the secrets of the universe from Father – a mysterious figure bowed to by gods and monsters. The narrative alternates between defining moments of Carolyn’s past and the present, as she and her ‘siblings’ investigate Father’s disappearance. Present Carolyn is an unreliable narrator, made even more difficult to understand by our often only seeing her through the eyes of Steve and Erwin – the archetypal straight men learning about Carolyn’s world for the first time as surrogates for the reader. The Library at Hellebore follows Alessa Li, kidnapped in her early twenties to study at The Hellebore Technical Institute for the Gifted because she is too powerfully violent to be allowed to live in normal society. Hellebore is overseen by the mysterious Faculty, clearly extremely potent beings given their role as teachers and prison guards for the young and powerful. The narrative alternates between important moments of Alessa’s time at Hellebore and the present, as she and seven classmates struggle to survive the Faculty’s hunger and each other in a slightly contrived battle royale. Present Alessa is a partially unreliable narrator, having just murdered her roommate for reasons not explained until near the end of the book. "Wazin nyata", David and Carolyn, art by Robert Carter The Library at Mount Char’s prose is straightforward, even if on a first read the plot is nigh incomprehensible. The writing is dark, and darkly comedic, with the type of deadpan delivery that gets me every time. The Library at Hellebore’s prose is utterly decadent with imagery, particularly when it comes to descriptions of gore and body horror. (It worked for me at first, but became overbearing before long as I searched for a character or plot thread to catch my interest.) The dialogue and certain technical choices – one early chapter introduces every character with variations of “a voice across the room spoke up” – were a little frustrating, and all humour (often crass, sometimes genuinely funny) is dished out by the designated class clown Rowan. Of course, all of this is probably down to taste. Hellebore is marketed and likely written for fans of modern ‘dark academia’ and all that entails (often straying too close to the YA style I struggle with, though there are a number of exceptions). Mount Char, rather than aiming to fit neatly in a marketable box, was Hawkins’ attempt to stand out from the “slush pile” of manuscripts with something hard to define – and I’d argue he absolutely succeeded. The Library at Hellebore, art by Zoë van Dijk Meet the Librarians As I hinted above, The Library at Hellebore offered me very little in the way of characters I felt attached to – even the non-binary Gracelynn and Kevin, with their unique personalities and abilities, did just about nothing for me. Alessa's backstory with eviscerating her would-be abusers mainly had me wanting to re-watch Promising Young Woman, if anything. Most characters just get so little time that any interest I have in them is stilborn – prophesied Cicada god-inhabited Sullivan, transforming Portia and her relationship to her cult, even Rowan's tragic origins. Cool ideas with very little substance. Granted, the same is true for most of Carolyn's siblings in The Library at Mount Char – whether unnamed, only named, or named with an idea of their Catalogue. But the five you get to know, you get to know deeply, and they feel tragically human. Add Steve, Erwin, perhaps Father and a lion or two, and that's a lot of real-feeling characters to grapple with. While Father and the Faculty are the overarching villains of their respective books, our protagonists are mainly working against rivals on their own level. Hellebore has Adam, gorgeous blond model and son of Satan well on track to become the Antichrist, if only he can keep his grades up and not get eaten by his teachers. Like everything in the book, Adam's evil is entirely politically correct, nailing Gracelynn and Kevin's pronouns even while mocking their deaths and eviscerating other classmates. (Content warning: SA) Mount Char has David, whose Catalogue is warfare and who Father transformed from a cheerful and kind young boy into a maniacal psychopath. Modern society is anathema to these characters, and the novel doesn't shy away from mental, physical and sexual violence being very real and horrifying aspects of warfare – including against David's adopted siblings. We see the effects of his torment on Jennifer and Michael and how far he and Margaret have pushed each other; he is a target of Carolyn's vengeance from the beginning and his further abuse only adds fuel to her rage. David from The Library at Mount Char, art by Robert Carter I feel Carolyn's hatred for David deeply and viscerally, even knowing the horror and tragedy that shaped him into this monstrosity. It adds to my empathy for her and elevates the tension in every scene they are together. Hellebore's Adam is a fun villain once he gets going – certainly more so than the Faculty or Librarian, who turn out to just be flesh-eating monsters to be overcome – but there's so little personal connection between him and Alessa and I'm barely inclined to root for her anyway. The Faculty themselves are a cool idea! Beings from another world or reality harvesting the juiciest of our world's magic in the guise of running a school/prison. But you start thinking about it for two seconds and the whole premise starts to run at the edges: why teach your food at all? Why encourage them to kill one another if you want to eat them alive? Why promise freedom to the winner of the impromptu battle royale? Why are they blind to Rowan being a death worker and all the other shenanigans the students get up to? Father, now there's a character. Orders of magnitude more evil than David for having created that monster in addition to everything else. But also unquestionably capital-G Good, having usurped the previous god of our universe and introduced such things as 'love' and 'light' to reality. A tough nut to crack, and a tough villain to beat. "Setting the Sun", art by Robert Carter Choose Your Book Again, there's a lot of genuinely fascinating ideas in The Library at Hellebore – if you can stand the gore and aren't looking for anything too deep. A lot of reviews say it's a well-executed look at power and relationships, the idea of fighting the need to become a monster in order to survive. Sure! But I can say without a moment's hesitation that Mount Char does it better. Where Hellebore ends with Alessa defeating the Faculty, Mount Char has another whole act dedicated to confronting how dehumanized Carolyn has become in her single-minded quest for vengeance. It's profound and horrifying and incredibly important to any discussion about fighting monsters and becoming one yourself. Look for The Library at Mount Char at your library if it sounds interesting to you! I promise it's worth the ride, and despite the occasional graphic violence it might as well be a middle grade book compared to the descriptions in Hellebore. And hey, if you're up for some decadent prose, give that one a read too. I certainly intend to give Khaw another shot, even if this one paled in comparison to one of my favourites. Next week, King Sorrow. Should be fun. Thanks for reading and until next time <3

Media narratives about violence against women A Tune for Today After more than a month of book reviews and discussion, today I wanted to give a nod to a song that's been stuck in my head for a long time – for both its unique riff and evocative message. Today (May 5th) is also Red Dress Day, which honors the lives and memories of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and Two-Spirited People in Canada, The United States, and beyond. To quote from https://amnesty.ca/red-dress-day/: Indigenous women and girls make up less than 5% of the Canadian population but represent approximately 24% of all homicide victims. They are 12x more likely to be murdered. Over 60% of Indigenous women experience physical or sexual violence in their lifetime. A statistics Canada report showed that 56% of Indigenous women experience intimate partner violence, more than double the rate for non-Indigenous people. Indigenous women constitute 41.4% of the federally incarcerated female population, despite representing just over 4% of the Canadian female population. That site is an incredible resource for learning more about this issue, both historically and how it continues to threaten lives and communities today. I've previously written about Cherie Dimaline's The Marrow Thieves, which follows Indigenous characters in a dystopian setting, and about Postcolonial Narratives & Empathy Burnout, where I discuss my own struggles with raising the flag for every single issue I'd ideally like to support. I'll also admit here that I didn't plan to mesh these two topics until about two hours ago, but I think the connection is real and worth exploring. So, let's give it a shot. "Red Dress Remembrance", art by Tracey Metallic Death and Glitz If you want a little background on (or more of) Avatar, I've previously written about their song "Hail the Apocalypse", which features the immortal line 'all flesh is equal when burnt'. A grim and shocking way to convey ideas about equality, but in my mind a truthful and effective one! "Death and Glitz" isn't much subtler. Johannes Eckerström, Avatar's front man and songwriter, described the song as being about the perversion and detachment with which true crime – and the media in general – is wont to treat (particularly young and attractive) female victims. They like you more like this A tragedy with tits Keep racking up the hits They love your death and glitz No-one more obedient than you No pulse // Just a doll-like face and figure Pose // For the crime investigators Pictures of your face // Every front page Homeless runaway Hey, hey! The subject, whoever she may have been, becomes defined by her gender/body and her victimhood. Any and all agency is torn away, her story a blank canvas to be twisted into any gruesome shape for the storyteller's purposes. Her death and beauty make her so much more malleable and engaging than she ever could have been in life, with humanity and personhood. Every single line is vicious. An earlier one – "Foam from her mouth // Finger on her wrist // Girl what did you do?" – combined with "Homeless runaway" suggests that the media is also more than willing to throw blame at her if that's what will get them more clicks. That feels particularly relevant with regard to Red Dress Day, since so often racialized victims are assigned greater blame by the media. (And I think the song's meaning can be a little broader as well, possibly extending to ideas of celebrity and how – again, particularly young women's – public images can grow beyond individual control, be shaped to fit different narratives.) "Lady in Red", art by Danii Kehler Awareness & Hope What I deeply love about Avatar is that, while their songs are going for some of that heavy metal shock value, they are often also pointing at a real issue or idea. The band certainly doesn't share the song's perspective, but by assuming this gritty disco party tone to revel in this woman's death and glitz, they're exposing the real people and industries who are profiting off these victims. Less than ten years ago, I was walking around the University of Toronto campus and saw red dresses hanging from a number of trees, and had no idea what it was about. Today I do, and I think there are significantly more Canadians aware of the issue of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls, and Two-Spirited People – whether because of Red Dress Day, the National Inquiry, or the Calls for Justice which continue to demand attention almost seven years after publication. The image of the red dress symbolizes the absence of a loved one – a person who should be present if not for systemic violence. It grants a personhood to the victim and forces the viewer to acknowledge them, in sharp contrast to the way "Death and Glitz" shows the media stripping women of their agency and identity. As with every piece of media I cover, I wanted to write about "Death and Glitz" because it moved me in a novel way and articulated an true aspect of our world I hadn't quite understood beforehand. Before I go, a quote from Leigh Bardugo's Ninth House: “But would it have mattered if she’d been someone else? If she’d been a social butterfly, they would have said she liked to drink away her pain. If she’d been a straight-A student, they would have said she’d been eaten alive by her perfectionism. There were always excuses for why girls died.” Thanks for reading and until next time <3

Cosmic horror and stark humanity in a compelling queer novel Overview Last night I had the pleasure of attending a second book club discussion of Our Wives Under The Sea by Julia Armfield, after previously enjoying one back in October. I had intended to write about the book back then, but for whatever reason it never quite found its way into an article, and after a certain point I suppose I forgot just how effective and haunting it was. No longer, though, as I’m fresh off a re-read and an insightful discussion. This is a deeply fascinating book which I recommend you experience for yourself; especially if, like me, you're a fan of eerie, absorbing mysteries and powerful metaphors. To give a brief synopsis: Our Wives Under The Sea follows girlfriends Miri and Leah in alternating chapters. We see Leah as one of three crewmembers aboard a mysterious deep sea exploration mission which quickly goes wrong. Miri's chapters take place after Leah's return, with flashbacks to her life before and during Leah's mission. Both narratives are tense and atmospheric, and explore the book's mysteries from different angles. Again, give it a try if you're able and interested! But as always I also hope that my discussion might convince other folks to give it a try, or at least to enjoy the book’s narrative and message second-hand. Spoilers ahead. Our Wives Under The Sea by Julia Armfield The Surface Story Leah is an experienced marine biologist who has recently begun working at the ‘Center for Marine Enquiry’, an organization consistently described as strange and unusual by different characters throughout the book. The Center sends Leah on a three-week deep sea mission alongside Jelka and Matteo, both of whom she’s worked with previously. Almost immediately upon entering the water, their submarine loses all function except for the bare necessities to keep the crew alive. An inexplicable scent of burning meat accompanies their fall and recurs throughout. As their craft sinks for hours or days, we see Jelka quickly turn to her religion for comfort, Matteo first grappling with the useless controls then attempting to ritually isolate himself within a ring of flashlights, and Leah sinking within herself to thoughts of Miri and the rest of her life. Eventually the ship settles and haunting noises begin ringing out around them. Their senses of time and reality warp; Jelka begins hearing a voice in the alien noise and Matteo once lashes out with uncharacteristic violence. Finally Jelka exits the craft while her fellows aren’t watching, presumed immediately killed by the immense pressure at that depth. Soon after the craft’s function returns, but before returning to the surface, Leah and Matteo encounter a gargantuan being which seems to observe them under its baleful gaze. ~ I’ll be focusing on Miri’s chapters more in the next section, so a lighter summary for her here. Leah is returned to her after six months, rather than the expected three weeks. But like Annihilation and Kinds of Kindness and so many other stories, Leah seems to have come back wrong. Rarely herself and prone to spouting random facts and observations about the ocean, this Leah also becomes more and more dependent on saltwater as she simultaneously eats less and less regular food. Her skin becomes scaled and silvery in places and she leaves an inch of encrusted pink detritus behind her every time she takes a bath. Her condition escalates; Miri can get no answers from the cagey and disappearing Center, and eventually takes a mutated and barely recognizable Leah to the sea, where she completely dissolves into the water. The end. 'Our Wives Under The Sea', painting by Amélie Peace The Profound Depths While my ever fascinated by speculative fiction mind is very interested in that story, the book club last night emphasized to me that for many people Leah’s journey is merely the bones holding the meat of Miri’s chapters in place. And it’s tough to argue, because the metaphors here are rich. Miri’s flashbacks show her processing her mother’s decline and passing around the same time she met and started dating Leah. It’s an immediately potent backdrop to her current relationship with Leah, painting this decline as parallel to her mother’s. Another perfectly justifiable reading is that this is a metaphor for Miri and Leah growing apart; Leah seeming more distant and alien with every passing day while Miri tries her best to help and adapts to do so in new ways. This is also supported by their couples therapist, who asks whether Miri fully comprehends everything Leah went through and might still be dealing with. There’s a plethora of rich theming and parallels to be found on a first or second read. Both Miri and Leah’s chapters are claustrophobic and isolated, their every waking hour filled with unwanted noise from the neighbours’ TV and outside the ship respectively. Jelka tells the tale of Saint Lidwina, whose suffering is an eerie echo of Leah’s later transformation. Despite being a scientist, Leah also apparently believes she has had experiences with ghosts; juicy literally or metaphorically. All three crewmembers have profound associations with the sea prior to this mission, perhaps making them ideal candidates or simply foreshadowing their experiences and fates. Perhaps Leah never returned and the story is an exploration of Miri’s journey with grief; perhaps she did and Miri’s grief is for the person she thought she knew, or for the relationship. I’m sure there’s much more here, and I’d love to hear your takes! Art by Elizabeth von Oehson Theories & Final Thoughts I can’t help but engage with the speculative elements here directly as well, fruitless as it will certainly be. My take is that the Center for Marine Enquiry is concerned solely with that creature down there. (Their logo’s an eye, they have a religious vibe at the mission’s farewell party, and damn if they don’t later disappear off the face of the Earth.) Are they a cult, offering Jelka’s life to their god? Scientists, seeing its effect on the crew’s minds? Disciples offering prayers, or adversaries searching for weaknesses? Impossible to say. By far the most incongruous element is that smell of burning meat, experienced by the whole crew multiple times. Symbolically it evokes a journey into hell (Orpheus and Eurydice?) or perhaps the crew’s sacrificial role as a burnt offering. If more literal, perhaps the crew died on the descent? Or did the Center have other sacrifices hidden away and burning aboard the craft? Or did some engineer leave their Big Mac in the engine? I have no idea, and it’s the kind of bizarre, tantalizing mystery that will keep me coming back to this story looking for more hints and meaning. In case it’s not clear, 5 stars. 10. Perhaps 666. Read it, it’s great! Thanks for reading and until next time <3

AI psychosis, tech oligarchs, samurai shrimp and the search for empathy What is Children of Strife ? Children of Strife is a new 2026 release by Adrian Tchaikovsky, prolific author of science fiction & fantasy. It is the fourth novel in his sci-fi Children of Time series, begun in 2015, but could also probably be read on it's own, if you're determined and imaginative enough! Tchaikovsky does helpfully summarize and reintroduce important concepts from the previous books, and only one character can be said to be a continuation from those stories. This section up top will be spoiler-free, comprising general thoughts and feelings about the book and who it's for. To the surprise of no one, I love it! An essential facet of this series is the sheer wonder it evokes in my mind about what human, posthuman and inhuman life could look like in the universe. Each book is incredibly imaginative in bold new ways, and Children of Strife is no exception. At the same time, and while it certainly contains all the hallmark components of books in this series, Children of Strife is also remarkably relevant to our lives in the world today. As I hinted at in the subtitle and will go into further below, Tchaikovsky explores ideas surrounding AI & reality, the evils of oligarchy & unchecked ego, and above all the difficulty of changing instead of clinging to the things we've always known and been told. I highly recommend this book, series, and author! Here are a few other pieces I've recently written, if you're curious to learn more before reading it yourself: Turning Conflict Into Community in Children of Time Space Exploration & The Shape of Human Consciousness The Tyrant Philosophers Worldbuilding & Stormlight Parallels Spoilers for Children of Strife ahead. Children of Strife by Adrian Tchaikovsky Alis, Cato, and escaping the past An aspect of Adrian Tchaikovsky's writing I always appreciate is that while his books are focused on the wondrous concepts, he manages to do so through the lens of relatable characters and narratives – which certainly isn't the case for all writers of 'big idea sci-fi'. Children of Strife 's protagonists (an ill-fitting term, given how many timelines and perspectives are at play, but as close as it gets) are the misfit crew of the Dissenter , a Panspecific ship captained by Cato and managed by Avigael Kern. Everyone aboard –including this instance of Kern, who has taken on a new name and identity for herself – feels isolated from the utopian Panspecific society and so has found their way here. Alis ' backstory follows directly from Children of Memory , though she herself didn't appear in that book. She was a scientist exploring the depths of the Imir Machine , an alien device capable of simulating complex worlds for minds uploaded therein. We learn that the Machine slowly shifts and bends its narratives to the user's will, in an effort to keep them comfortable and engaged – thus Alis and her team's many and impossible discoveries about Imir and the Machine are ultimately meaningless, fabricated for their amusement. After spending untold lifetimes under the Machine's spell, Alis was finally removed and taken immediately to therapy, because she could no longer recognize the real world – forever waiting for the Machine's narrative to kick in, having learned its quirks after so long. From Alis' perspective, we see her relapse multiple times in moments of anxiety, and even question whether she ever even had a team or whether those personalities were invented for her benefit. AI psychosis was clearly an inspiration for Tchaikovsky in telling this story, and I love the way he extrapolates the dangers of a people-pleasing chatbot to the horror of a people-pleasing reality simulator. Cato is a stomatopod (mantis shrimp) from Kern's World, uplifted to intelligence by the same nanovirus which gave rise to the Portiid civilization. Tchaikovsky mentioned the stomatopods back in Children of Time , but finally gets around to exploring them in-depth here – as he did with the spiders, octopuses and ravens in the first three books respectively. Tchaikovsky has imagined uplifted stomatopod society as being feudal and militaristic, based off the real animal's physiology and behaviour. (And he clearly did serious research, because everything from their ultra-deadly 'punches' to their unique light sensitivity is apparently true !) We learn that Cato's people asked the Panspecific for a solar system of their own, along with all the technology they wanted and some breathing room from the other species – and that this request was easily granted, this being a community always looking for ways to help and communicate with each other. Cato's species then learned a horrifying lesson about remote warfare, as compared to the claw-to-claw combat they were used to. Of the two hundred thousand stomatopods to colonize their new solar system, only a few dozen exemplary killers are left by the time Portiids come to check in on the society. Cato is one of those elite killers, possibly the greatest warrior his people have ever produced. And despite how much glory he seemed to attain through bloody conquest against his own people, he is now stricken with guilt and trying to change his ways – even though doing so goes against all he has ever known, against everything heightened evolution has selected for in his species. It's amazing to watch him slowly change, through the relationships he develops and by coming to his own internal resolutions. Mantis Shrimp, art by Rachel Diaz Bastin True-to-life villainy A fun aspect of Children of Strife I mentioned last week is that we get to see a little more of the past ages of the universe: both in our near future, in the age of the first Terraformers, and thousands of years later when the survivors of total warfare manage to limp into space on the ark ships. We learn that while Avrana Kern led the main Terraforming movement, backed by mainstream science and politics, she had rivals who wanted to do it their own unproven way – and who had the funds to do so, unilaterally. Honestly, the only slightly unrealistic thing about Hartmand and the other billionaires is that they were all in bio tech and that they actually have their own clever ideas sometimes. We spend a fair portion of the book watching their story play out, all from the eyes of Kott, a weaselly woman constantly scheming for her survival beneath the tread of project funder Hartmand and his heavily bloated ego. The five fail to terraform their chosen world a number of times (each working from their own incompatible theories) before Ken Pill has the idea to use Kott's self-learning algorithm alongside other techniques. (Maybe I'm missing some semi-plausible explanation for this process, but I think we just have to go with Tchaikovsky on this idea of them uploading programs and later minds into the biosphere of this planet. I get that once things are set up it's a lot like Kern running on her ants, but at the start? ... A leap of faith, and probably the biggest I've taken in the series so far.) This miraculously causes blindingly fast evolution on the planet, with complex organisms developing from bacteria in a matter of hours. Terraforming accomplished! Except that no matter how hard the billionaires try to stomp it down, the planet is intent on developing an ecosystem of disgusting bugs, rather than anything resembling the Earth life they desire. So, they learn they can put their minds into the biosphere-program and consciously steer the tide of evolution. Still stepping on each other's work every time they take up the reins, though they learn to work together a little bit when two are playing god at once. Eventually, their human bodies die and they all individually choose to live on as sole god of their world... which means five gods, constantly at war and shaping Creation as they see fit. They're truly awful, especially once an ark ship arrives and they gain a population of pet humans to bully into subservience. We see the biotech billionaires-turned-gods are fairly miserable and hateful throughout, which is nice, but the real payoff is when the crew of the Dissenter arrives and they're forced to remember their humanity and mortality. Both in being confronted with their millennia-ago rival Avrana Kern and with the Nod Parasite in the form of Mira, who easily takes the reins of their stunted and inbred biosphere. (Though she has her own serious conflict with her monstrous past, as I referenced last week.) I enjoyed seeing these villains get their desserts: Hartmand being far too egotistical to let power go, even if it meant death; mad Ken Pill accepting the end on his own terms, and Kott and the others being sent to play god in the Imir machine where they won't do any further harm to anyone. Art by Freya Hartas Capable of Change Alis' recovery, Cato confronting his nature, Mira and Kern choosing new identities, Portifabian learning to exist as a single mind, Kott recognizing the evil of her world & fellow divinities, and far more – this book has a lot to say about the importance of change. Of recognizing when things are wrong, or when they can't go back to the perfect past we imagine, and taking steps to adapt ourselves, our beliefs and values, to the world we find ourselves in. It's a topic I discuss a lot around here, and I think Tchaikovsky chose it for a reason. We live in a world where we are constantly pigeonholed into certain categories, and things like adaptive algorithms make it increasingly difficult to see beyond those boxes – let alone escape them. I wrote here about the idea of queer theory as an important tool for seeing beyond the false dichotomies, and have dozens of articles which conclusions about the importance of mindfulness and taking active steps to live the lives we want. I certainly highly recommend this book & series, as well as Tchaikovsky's other work – his Tyrant Philosophers series is some of the best stuff I've ever read. If you so choose! Thanks for reading and until next time <3

Finding common ground before it’s too late The Series In the past week I finished my re-read of Children of Memory and rapidly devoured the newly released Children of Strife , so you can bet Adrian Tchaikovsky's storytelling and ideas remain front and center of my mind. Last week I took an in-depth look at the various shapes of human consciousness in the first three novels, focusing on the posthuman journey and lives of Doctor Avrana Kern in addition to the more alien experiences of other characters. (Reading the remainder of the series this week has me already itching to write another follow-up, but I'll save it for my upcoming review/analysis!) In addition to all the consciousness shenanigans though, this series is about groups with little in common, often on the brink of mutual destruction, finding kinship and creating community out of their shared life and intelligence. That seems like a pretty important idea for us all, so let's take a look at how it comes about in these novels! Spoilers ahead , though I'll stick to discussing each book at a time in case you're somewhere in the middle. The Children of Time Series by Adrian Tchaikovsky Children of Time The first novel in the series establishes its central conflict from the beginning. On Kern's world, we watch portia labiata evolve from simple hunters into an intelligent, communal species under the (mis)guidance of their accidental creator Dr. Avrana Kern. We see the spiders learning to work together, dealing with external and internal conflicts, developing wholly new science and struggling with religious fanaticism and extreme gender inequality. Aboard the Gilgamesh , we learn that human descendants have survived and escaped the ravaged, poisoned and frozen Earth, millennia after Kern's generation waged wars of annihilation against each other (watch today's music video above!). We see these new humans trying to be better than their violent and greedy forebears, and struggling desperately with it as soon as hard decisions must be made. Nonetheless, these are possibly the only living humans in the universe – and they would love to be able to start fresh on a lovely green planet prepared for them by the terraformers of the past. There are hints throughout at how each side will ultimately respond. Faced with doom in the form of an uplifted, adaptable invading ant colony, the Portiid spiders eventually devise chemical techniques to isolate individual ants and take control of them – ultimately rendering the army harmless and granting the spiders a programmable workforce. When the Gilgamesh faces insurrection from doomed would-be-colonists and later civil war, matters are resolved by the business end of a gun. Thus when the moment of collision occurs and the Gilgamesh will either colonize Kern's world or be destroyed, the situation is devastating. Even if you get over your empathy for the humans, they're clearly going to burn as much of Portiid civilization as possible on their way out. Yet at the peak of the book's climax, we see that the spiders aren't actually here to kill: they're injecting individuals, then the Gilgamesh 's life support systems, with a modified version of the uplift virus to reduce human hostility and help them see the spiders as fellow intelligent beings. If human nature had prevailed (including Kern's, who disagreed with the plan and wanted her human kin destroyed), another green world and billions more lives would have burned. So the Portiids repeated what had worked with the ants, and transformed their foes into members of a new community. Connection and empathy, over xenophobia and destruction. The Siege of Seven Trees from Children of Time , art by KoalaQualifications Children of Ruin The second book (set up by Children of Time 's epilogue) then sees a small group from this community set out to explore another star system, this one both on Kern's map of terraforming projects and showing signs of activity in the form of radio signals. While there are minor conflicts among the crew of the Portiid ship – Helena/Portia and Meshner/Fabian's rival attempts at enhanced interspecies communication, gender dynamics between Fabian and the female spiders, Kern's fascination with Meshner's implant – they are generally just the protagonists exploring a complex situation, unlike either side in the first book. In addition to the current mission, Children of Ruin tells the story of the terraformers (co-temporaneous with Avrana Kern) who first visited the system thousands of years ago. We learn about the scientist Disra Senkovi, who oversaw the terraforming of the planet Damascus and gifted it (along with human technology) to his uplifted octopuses. We see the rest of the terraformers discovering alien life on the planet of Nod, before suddenly being infected and destroyed by the Nod parasite. Their leader, Baltiel, unfortunately makes it to Damascus before expiring – eventually leading to the parasite destroying all octopus life on the planet and stranding the cephalopods in orbit. Thus the Portiid/Human crew spend the novel working to solve not one but two dangerous first contact scenarios. The octopuses associate humanity with the parasite, but also with their creator. Their nature as a people who constantly challenge and change their preconceptions means they are divided on whether to respond with violence or curiosity, and remain so until the issue of the parasite is resolved. It is Kern, through Meshner's implants, who finally makes contact with the Nod parasite and is able to properly understand the situation. The parasite fervently wishes to know more of the universe, which it discovered by inhabiting and mimicking the minds of the first terraformers. Yet it has also realized that by consuming things and people, it is destroying the novelty and uniqueness of those experiences. Kern helps it reach this conclusion by extrapolating its current course: that one day it could inhabit the entire universe, and be just as wanting and desolate as it is now. Instead, they reach a solution: the parasite can travel along with the Humans and Portiids, even in the bodies of consenting individuals, and experience the wonders of the universe that way. Both conflicts in Children of Ruin are resolved first and foremost by establishing communication and finding empathy by understanding the wants and needs of the other party. It's Helena and Portia's approach to communication which helps them begin a dialogue with the octopuses, and Meshner and Fabian's which turns the Nod parasite from an apocalyptic threat into a strange ally. Again, the community grows and violence is averted as a result. Painting (inspired by Children of Ruin ) by Johanna Excell Children of Memory The third novel is a little different, so this section will (hopefully) be much shorter than the previous two. Children of Memory again builds off the epilogue of its predecessor, which in this case already included a pair of Corvids aboard the Portiid ship heading off to new adventures. And indeed, first contact with the Corvids on the planet of Rourke is more background than focus of Children of Memory – the only conflict, other than the story of how they evolved intelligence without the uplift virus – being Kern and the crew (including the Corvids) debating whether the birds are truly sentient or not. (I enjoy the conclusion the Corvids draw, that no they aren't intelligent and in fact no one is.) Instead, this theme of conflict vs. community mostly manifests in the xenophobia held by the colonists of Imir (from another ark ship like the Gilgamesh , rather than humans of Kern's time). They blame any and all wrongs on imagined outsiders, which ends up being a convenient excuse for people inside the community to commit theft and violence. Thus Tchaikovsky demonstrates that this theme doesn't only go one way: if we're not careful, community can turn into conflict and alienation all too easily. (Okay, there's also lots of great moments on the level of individuals where friendship and empathy overcome apathy and self-centeredness. The Corvids go above and beyond in proving their worth by finding Miranda in the simulation, and Miranda brings Liff out into the real world, despite her never having actually existed.) Miranda & Liff meeting the Witch & Corvids in Children of Memory , art by ElStrawFedora Children of Strife I'll aim to keep this short as well, and save most details for my review/analysis. That said, damn but this book has a lot of fascinating things to say! (Remember, here be spoilers!) The central conflict is all on the planet of Marduk, where some terraforming rivals of Kern's have managed to upload themselves into the world's biosphere. (Yes, that would've been a great fit for last week's article. Oops!) They don't quite have the apparent fidelity of Kern's consciousness transfers, but they started off as egotistical, ruthless bastards in life and their tenure as gods hasn't taught them any humanity in the interim. Trapped, eking out lives on Marduk by bowing to their gods' wills are the human descendants of another ark ship. It's into this dynamic which a Panspecific (Tchaikovsky's finally named the Portiid-Human-Cephalopod-etc. etc. society!) crew of outcasts are dropped. One of them, Mira, is a constructed persona of the Nod parasite, and she ends up representing another conflict as her buried consume-everything nature threatens to destroy all life on the planet. But the book is also very much about Cato, an uplifted stomatopod from the seas of Kern's world. Their society is a feudal warrior culture which praises honor and capability of violence – and Cato was the epitome of that ethos, until recently, when he's been forced to re-examine his ways and consider other perspectives. While Mira is ultimately brought back into the fold by communication and empathy (including Cato staying his violence at a pivotal moment), the gods of Marduk need a little more convincing. As with the Portiids defending themselves until they can convert the humans in the first book, Children of Strife gives a reminder that bullies might first need to be met on their own ground before they find the light. And it's in that arena, of carefully applied force in defense of the innocent, that Cato is able to shine. "Branching Evolution", art by Tomasz Jedruszek Talk, and Listen So, yeah. Communication is a two-way street, as these books demonstrate. Just because I have answers applicable to my life doesn't mean I should blindly try to apply them to yours. I love that Tchaikovsky explores so many different versions of these scenarios, showing how neither the problem or the solution to conflict is going to always be the same. Anyway, look forward to my review & analysis of Children of Strife soon. And this song came up while I was writing and it felt relevant, so I'll include it at the end. Thanks for reading and until next time <3

Adrian Tchaikovsky’s Children of Time  and the Ship of Theseus Re-read and re-visit I mentioned two weeks ago in my Project Hail Mary  article that I’d been diving back into Adrian Tchaikovsky’s Children of Time , one of my favourite science fiction novels and series. Since then I’ve finished Children of Ruin  and have begun Children of Memory , ahead of finally getting my eyes on the newly released Children of Strife . The series is a wonderfully imaginative exploration of the future of human space exploration and experiences of being, in addition to extrapolating the possible inner lives of very different sentient beings. I previously wrote about transhumanism – the idea of human life and experiences beyond our mortal bodies – in Children of Time  a little over two years ago, and I think a fresh look is long overdue for any number of reasons. The most important of which is simply the advantage of being in the middle of my re-read right now, rather than trying to recall details from a separation of years. Spoilers ahead  for the first three books in the series, though as always I hope hearing about these ideas only makes the stories more enticing! Kern & Portia, art by doorslayer Doctor Avrana Kern Dr. Kern was more or less the sole focus of that previous article, so while I won’t go as in-depth on her today, you can hopefully find more detail here .  I was going to say here that Kern is probably my favourite character in the series, but that’s probably aided by the fact of her being the only consistent character across the books. (Though characters named Portia, Bianca, Fabian, Viola and Paul appear in multiple books and time periods, they’re archetypes of Portiid spiders and cephalopods rather than the exact same individuals.) Acerbic and superior in her life as a scientist on the forefront of humanity's terraforming and uplifting programs, Avrana Kern survives her society – and arguably her species, since humanity's survivors have noticeably evolved – by millennia, frozen in suspension above a planet named for her and waiting for word from either Earth or her project below to wake her. During this time, or perhaps through her numerous awakenings dealing with the Gilgamesh , a copy of Kern's mind is uploaded to the satellite she inhabits, consuming or merging with the satellite's AI persona Eliza in the process. It is this instance of Kern which continues on, long after the death of her human body and brain. Once she establishes a dialogue with her Portiid (uplifted portia labiata ) creations, they are eventually able to transfer her mind from the decaying satellite to their own version of computing hardware: a specially bred and biochemically controlled colony of ants, whose interactions mimic the passing of information through electrons. This framework is later bolstered with some Human technology and duplicated across dozens, hundreds, and thousands of such ant colonies, but for the remainder of the three books the Kerns we see are (mostly) running on ants, plain and simple. Dr. Avrana Kern, art by matrose The Nod Parasite & Imir Children of Ruin sees a ship of explorers – Human and Portiid alike, with Kern serving as ship's computer – set out from Kern's world in response to detected radio signals from another of old humanity's terraforming worlds. (By the way: the books use "human" for Kern's species – us – and "Human" for the crew and descendants of the Gilgamesh who have been exposed to the nanovirus, tailored by Kern and the Portiids to increase empathy, reduce violence and to help them recognize their spider allies as kin. Yes, that probably deserves its own article too.) In addition to an advanced civilization of Cephalopods (octopuses uplifted in similar fashion to Kern's spiders), the crew discover entirely alien life on a planet the ancient human terraformers dubbed Nod. Colonizing much of Nod's life is a parasite capable of encoding vast amounts of information within itself, and which is both incredibly curious and readily adaptable. We see flashbacks to the parasite infecting the original terraformers, eventually bypassing the hosts' immune systems and hiding between the lobes of the brain. It eventually begins passing information from one side to the other, learning what that information means, and even editing it – inserting its own will into the host's thoughts. Long after the original terraformers have died, the parasite has continued to replay and replay the experience of being them – in particular Erma Lante, who it had access to for the longest. A being of endless curiosity, the parasite is confused why its incredible alien toys have lost all their novelty. (The climax of the book involves confronting its consuming nature, which I'll also go into in that other article.) Portiid & Humans, art by Alex Ries Ultimately, the parasite agrees to live symbiotically with other sentient life and explore the universe together (I know, it needs a new name! Hopefully Children of Strife delivers.) In Children of Memory , the Nod parasite is fully embodying the consciousness of a Human woman named Miranda, who allowed it to copy her mind so that she could continue exploring in two separate directions. Speaking of Children of Memory , the third book mostly takes place in a simulated reality created by an alien machine buried on the failed terraforming world Imir. The machine recorded the lives and minds of colonists who died thousands of years before, and is constantly replaying their existences – which the exploring crew of Kern, Portiids, Miranda, Paul and Corvids find themselves stuck in when they reach the planet. (Another Sanderson/Tchaikovsky parallel ! I won't spoil which book, but if you know you know!) The machine's origins and purpose is a complete mystery, but it's fascinating that it seems to be behaving so similarly to the Nod parasite – constantly simulating the few examples of consciousness and life it was exposed to, as though innately recognizing how special sentience is. Children of Ruin 's epilogue, art by ElStrawFedora Continuity of Consciousness I don't think I'm alone in saying I quite enjoy the idea that I am mostly the same person I was yesterday; that my sense of self has continued even through sleep from then to now. The alternative, after all, is that there are breaks in that continuity. Or maybe no continuity whatsoever, just an illusory narrative created by my brain to explain my actions. We all know the Ship of Theseus , right? The cells that make up my body change constantly, so surely I can't be the same self as I was a decade ago, right? That's one of the questions clearly at the very heart of the Children of Time series. The Avrana Kern trapped in Imir's machine simulation has faint memories of being a human woman, despite being many steps removed from the original scientist. Every instance of her is under the illusion of continued consciousness, even though objectively Avrana Kern died confused and cold thousands of years ago. Even stranger are the consciousnesses summoned up by the Nod parasite: while it is Miranda, does it experience that continuity of consciousness, remembering Miranda's childhood and way of being? It seems that way! Though with the Imir machine and the Nod parasite's early attempts to simulate Erma Lante, it also seemed like each simulation brought the mind back to the moment of recording. --- Anyway. All that to say that being alive is very strange, even before you get into the realm of science fiction. Then it's just ridiculous. If you want more speculation about minds, check out my examination of fractured identity in Ancillary Justice and of uploaded consciousness in Black Mirror ! I'll tentatively plan to write about the different depictions of conflict and community in this series next week, with the points I mentioned above plus some fun octopus ideas and more. Thanks for reading and until next time <3

A new queer classic for Trans Day of Visibility Persona (Spoiler-Light Review) I heard about and read Persona through a book club, and knew immediately upon closing the book that I'd soon be writing about it. The novel is a brand new 2026 release from Canadian musician, actress and author Aoife Josie Clements, and may as well have been tailored to perfectly match my taste in horror. As we discussed at our club meeting, I'd recommend avoiding any detailed description – even the three disparate paragraphs on the back of the book – so as to fully enjoy the experience of mystery and discovery if offers. I also know this won't be for everyone, so up here in the spoiler-light section I'll give a basic hook and a few possible comparisons in terms of what to expect from Persona . The hook: a shut-in trans woman finds explicit content of herself online, which she didn't make. Tonal comparisons: Persona is a little more lucid and hopeful than Negative Space or Fever Dream , but darker and more inwardly human than There is No Antimemetics Division or We Used to Live Here . For me at least, I think House of Leaves and Our Wives Under The Sea might be helpful parallels for the dread and mystery which pervade those stories. Anyway, the actual content of Persona is only half of what deeply fascinates me about the novel. There’s also an underlying reflection here about the ways society treats young, low-income trans women and the unfortunate push towards certain types of work and lives. That's the pitch! Consider finding Persona at your local library or queer bookstore and giving it a shot. I highly recommend it! In the next section, beware of spoilers. Persona by Aoife Josie Clements Spoilers & Analysis One of the things I love about Persona is just how many kinds of horror it employs through its story. The first section reminds me of Amygdalatropolis , with Annie stuck online with the worst of humanity, living off wine and cigarettes amid hundreds of trash bags, feeling a mothering urge toward the infesting bugs around her while paying no attention to her own festering physical and mental condition. Then Amy's section brings in nightmares and a half-dozen social horrors, on top of the everyday struggles both women face for simply being trans. They also reflect each other's fears: shut-in, barely-attempting-to- pass Annie being Amy's absolute rock bottom while Amy's sex work was the path Annie never wanted to take. Even before meeting, they are mutually existential horrors for one another: Annie thinks Amy must be her sleepwalking alternate self, while Amy believes Annie represents the (ritually cast-off) worst parts of herself. The ending subverts all expectations, though, as the women explore the offices of their shared employer only to find themselves on a House of Leaves -esque near-infinite staircase, which in turn leads them to an eldritch fountain from which they (and many like them) were born. Amy, having been haunted by this place all her life, rejoins the biomass to be reshaped by the fountain. Annie flees, in hopes of beginning a new life for herself. The implication is that their employer, Chariot, found this resource and is exploiting it to produce cheap, artificial-ish labour. It's funny that they have no clue why so many of the individuals produced are trans, despite exerting so much control over their lives. The final chapter suggests that, although Chariot still seems to be testing Amy and Annie to some degree, their 'products' are already being employed elsewhere, as ninety-nine miners with the same face are lost in a mine collapse elsewhere in the world. Thanks book club for these insights: Annie dreams of ninety-nine roaches walking to their deaths in the dark very early in the book. Combined with some other strange moments – Annie seeming to astral project into Amy's room, Amy seeming to have some indication that Annie's been living nearby – and the Chariot executive's hint at shared consciousness, it seems very likely that these individuals are all connected in some way and that the mining incident is cotemporaneous with the events of the story. Although the book wraps most of its mysteries up quite cleanly, I was left a little perplexed by the incident when Silas attempted to exorcise Amy's apartment, only to get a vision of her nightmares and attempt to replicate her own self-harming attempt from earlier in her life. But, as we worked out at book club, Silas being a cisgender product of the fountain helps things fit, by having him share a mental connection with Amy. It's very possible there's more to uncover! Annie's in no condition to be any kind of reliable in her section's narration, but perhaps there are more psychic hints to be unburied. Annie and Amy are notably opposites in a lot of ways, but their behaviour and characteristics begin to change drastically as soon as they come into contact with one another. I'd like to think that by being exposed to someone else they can relate to, they're able to shift and grow without feeling like they're giving into society's demands on them. But maybe it's also a kind of psychic bleeding together, the two becoming more like one as they get closer. It's nonetheless inspiring and heartwarming to see Amy take on confidence as she cares for Annie, and for Annie to progress from her absolute despair to ending the book in a place where she genuinely wants to live. Art by @thefoxfisher Trans Day of Visibility Today, March 31st, is the International Transgender Day of Visibility . It's as important to talk about it today as it ever has been, what with the constant structural and personal attacks trans people face every day. It's horseshit, and it couldn't be more obvious that all of this hatred is ultimately based on nothing more than a desire to distract from the hundreds of otherwise we're under attack as a society. But that doesn't change the fact that the threats are real, frustrating, and dangerous. Art like Persona and I Saw The TV Glow exists to illuminate the human experiences of transgender people. It's tough to make progress when that basic idea of shared humanity is called into question, so please consider engaging with some trans art today, or tomorrow, and sharing it with others. We're all human beings, and we all have a right to exist. Yesterday I read The Organization is Here to Support You , which offered the sentiment that "you can't claim oppression in order to oppress people" . And Jesus but that line calls out so much American bullshit. Just today, the Supreme Court negated a ban on fucking conversion therapy. We apparently love our freedom to oppress. Heaven forbid we recognize a freedom for people to live their own lives. Persona ends with a call-to-action, to recognize and stand up when we see discrimination, violence, injustice. It's out there. Do we recognize it? Thanks for reading and until next time <3

An excellent adaptation which narrowly escapes gravity’s pull Project Hail Mary Last night I painfully tore myself away from the final 50 pages of my Children of Time   re-read and went to see the latest film everyone’s talking about: Project Hail Mary . I’d read the book back in summer 2023 and remembered it fondly, with one exception I’ll get into momentarily. Experience has made me (and I assume everyone, by now) wary of adaptations, particularly with mainstream films like this which so often throw away complexity in hopes of universal appeal. And this adaptation was by no means perfect (if such a thing is even possible) but damn if it’s not the closest I’ve seen in a long time. If you’re unfamiliar, Project Hail Mary  is from Andy Weir, the same author as The Martian  – which is about as grounded in real science as a story of interplanetary science fiction can get. Project Hail Mary  mostly retains that plucky science-focused tone while upping the imagination considerably with alien life forms and an existential interstellar threat. The book – and film – adds first contact and a fun, cooperative relationship to the formula which made The Martian successful, and in my opinion improves upon it by leaps and bounds. I was tearing up at multiple points in the film, partly just because this  is the sci-fi I’ve been waiting so long to see brought to life. (Same with Murderbot , and perhaps Dune  to some extent). Now, the book issue I alluded to earlier. You see, I came to Project Hail Mary after reading The Martian , Ready Player One , The Bobiverse and books I've since scrubbed from my memory. What these had in common, at least in my experience, was their protagonists. Why was it always the same guy? Project Hail Mary Sci-Fi's (and Hollywood's) Hero Problem He's male, white, and cishet; he's a goofy nerd who's just stumbled into incredible responsibility; he tells us he has a way with the ladies but that's not the focus right now; he's got more 80s pop culture references in him than Season Five of Stranger Things . His narration and technical explanations are smooth enough that you can mostly forget the many ways you’d probably dislike him if you weren’t in his head. All that to say, I went into Project Hail Mary with a bone to pick against that  protagonist. Dr. Ryland Grace isn’t particularly egregious when compared to his predecessors, but was similar enough to impact my enjoyment of the novel. (And as for the question above, we know why: the primary audience for these books is close enough to that character that he can serve as a relatable, wise-cracking blank slate for them to see themselves in – just like the Bellas and Katnisses of yesteryear.) Ryland Grace & Rocky, art by Crystal Scott My personal weariness with the archetype aside – after all, who else is reading all those books without fully liking the protagonists? – Project Hail Mary makes me feel like we're getting to a ridiculous point of (anti-)representation when it comes to science fiction films and television. Interstellar , The Martian , Ad Astra , Dune , Mickey-17 , and Project Hail Mary are all space epics set at variously distant points in the future. They're also all selling tickets based on the white male lead front and center on their posters. Yes, where applicable, the characters in the original media were also white men. Yes, once upon a time there were also white women on the posters for Gravity and Arrival . Yes, that's the world we live in. But that's not at all representative of the science fiction I read. Which makes it all the more frustrating when even Murderbot picks a white guy to play its racially ambiguous, neurodivergent, genderless and asexual protagonist. Even if I were to accept that this is the only way these projects are going to get made right now, I'm still worried about the impact this will have in the future. We're already in a world where the crossover between fans of science fiction films and books is limited – how are we ever going to bridge the gap when they're also consuming such different stories? Not to mention simple representation: how often do girls and racialized kids need to see themselves killed off as part of the white guy's backstory before they give up on their dreams? ... But also, Ryan Gosling nailed it. The whole production did. As with my experience reading Weir's book, it's the system and pattern I'm frustrated with rather than the individual work itself. Say that more than once, though, and do you start defending the system and pattern? Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir Hope & Action Maybe this is just hopeful for me, but the simple fact is that the 80s references won't go on forever – Ready Player One 's world be damned. As I mentioned before, these protagonists are no longer representative of the science fiction genre; eventually, Hollywood will want to adapt something that they can't force a white guy in front of without alienating the entire fan base. And that's kind of already happening, with Brandon Sanderson's Stormlight Archive . The author has said from the beginning that characters like Kaladin and Dalinar will be portrayed by non-white actors or won't be portrayed at all – famously even turning down Henry Cavill who wanted to play Kaladin. If Stormlight gets made, it'll be a big step in establishing that diversity is possible on the screen as well as on the page. As for what we can do; support diverse artists and initiatives! Don't let popularity tell you what's worth consuming, or you'll find yourself scrolling TikTok all day. If you're looking for recommendations, check out Simon Jimenez's The Vanished Birds , N.K. Jemisin's The Fifth Season , Stephen Graham Jones' The Buffalo Hunter Hunter , Rebecca Roanhorse's Black Sun . (And nothing against white male authors like Adrian Tchaikovsky either; his science fiction and fantasy alike are at least questioning important societal themes!) Have you had a chance to see the film? I can't help but recommend it in spite of everything. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading and until next time <3

Decluttering my mind with a brief glance up from the page Taipei Story  by R.F. Kuang  My mind’s been a bit messier than normal lately (perhaps something to do with my amnesia last week ?) so today I wanted to go through a few topics which don’t yet need their own full articles, but which I want to mention! R.F. Kuang’s newest novel, Taipei Story , was recently confirmed for release this September. The author’s doctoral candidacy only seems to have sped up her writing, having published Katabasis  last year and already discussed a forthcoming art-focused book she began writing after Taipei Story . I've written about R.F. Kuang  and Katabasis  in depth before, in addition to touching on Babel in my piece on Revolutions . Despite my tepid reaction to Katabasis and that this one seems unlikely to contain speculative elements, I remain excited to see what she explores in this new story. Yellowface also had no magic to speak of, after all, unless you count some absolutely devastating dark humour about cultural appropriation. While I'm not generally one to read synopses before starting books, the intervening six months will probably mean I forget any details by the time I actually get my hands and eyes on it. Taipei Story 's description immediately reminds me of Black Water Sister (2021) by Zen Cho , which also happens to feature a queer protagonist (where Kuang probably won't). Consider giving that book a look if you're looking for something to tide you over – and as always, let me know if you'd like me to write more about it! Taipei Story  by R.F. Kuang, cover art by whooli.chen Pretenders to the Throne of God  and Children of Strife  by Adrian Tchaikovsky I've said it before , but Adrian Tchaikovsky's work continues to take up more and more space in my mind with his nonstop production of incredible novels. In early 2026, he's putting out the fourth books in both his Fantasy The Tyrant Philosophers and Science Fiction Children of Time series, in addition to a collection of his short stories I hadn't even heard about until now. A standalone novel Green City Wars will join this roster before the year is even half done. Obsessed with The Tyrant Philosophers as I am, I've already finished Pretenders to the Throne of God and am feeling extremely bittersweet about learning that the series will conclude with a fifth and final entry, The Grave of Perfection . But all good things must come to an end, and I appreciate that Tchaikovsky is more interested in telling a complete, morally important tale rather than perpetually spinning his wheels in this fascinating world – much as I'd love to see it. [Spoilers for Pretenders for this paragraph only:] I absolutely love what Adrian managed in this book, in transforming the plot from just another colonial struggle into watching Pallesand tear itself apart thanks to all the disparate imperfections it has had to incorporate in order to get so far. Yasnic's story likewise feels a little pointless in the context of everything that's going on, right up until Caeleen completes her Revolution in Hell and flips the entire world on its head. The series started with a prominent worker's struggle, and it's so incredibly cool to see this novel extend that theme to no-longer-enslaved demons. As Caeleen makes her motto upon arriving in the world above: Wickedness and Misery. No kings, no masters. Children of Strife is yet to be released, but I'm certain it'll be excellent just as the rest of the series has been. I discussed the first book over two years ago now, mostly in the context of a single transhuman character, but the books deserve a lot more attention than that. After all, these are ultimately books about profoundly different sentient beings figuring out how to get along. Surely if they can, we as mere humans can too? (Though that theme isn't even limited to the Children series: Shroud and Alien Clay are doing the same thing, and are both also excellent.) Pretenders to the Throne of God  and Children of Strife  by Adrian Tchaikovsky Films of 2025 (Oscars) As you may have read in that piece on R.F. Kuang, I'm not one to care about celebrity culture – let alone these ceremonies where a bunch of rich people pat themselves on the back, a rare few bravely nodding to the world burning just outside. But hey, engagement. Something I was thinking about the other day is how some of 2025's best films (including the completely snubbed No Other Choice ) capture the deeply strange feeling of being human these days. One Battle After Another and Bugonia both feature 'protagonists' who genuinely recognize the injustices of the world and want to take action – but who are also deeply flawed and find themselves in very different lives to the ones they imagined. Arguably the same is even true of Frankenstein , though you might have to stretch definitions a bit. This is definitely a topic for another article (or series), but living truly ethically in today's world – let alone also committing oneself to as many causes as possible – is unimaginable. We're so bogged down by guilt and shame that it becomes difficult to act at all, and true heroism is out the window entirely. So it makes sense that the 'heroes' we see are kinky anarchists and castrated conspiracy theorists, who free themselves from the burden of guilt only to be further entrapped by their 'heroic' actions. Then Sinners (which I previously wrote about for my series on vampires) is such a powerful contemplation of human art and community; increasingly so as people leave the internet to connect with and create alongside their fellows. It's a striking look at how important it is to find a sense of belonging, of family. As a person who's embraced in-person queer community over the past year, it speaks to me deeply. Falling Back in Love with Being Human  by Kai Cheng Thom Falling Back in Love with Being Human  by Kai Cheng Thom I read this short book of letters back in November for one book club, and last night covered the first half again for another. Kai Cheng Thom is a hell of a writer who cuts to the core of the human condition, perhaps especially for her fellow trans women. This experience was a good reminder of just how much meaning time and life can strip from my memories of something. At some point after exiting that first book club back in November, my perception of this text dulled, lost its color and complexity. But it's truly great, and I can't recommend it highly enough – find it at your local library! Two of the letters especially spoke to me on both readings: to the deathwalkers , which recognizes the harrowing reality of living in the shadow of suicidal ideation; and to the church of social justice , which speaks to the unquestioning, brutal zealotry so often found in progressive spaces. I've written before about how we need empathy and community if we're going to get anywhere, and seeing Kai Cheng Thom lay it out so profoundly helps me feel a lot less alone in that sentiment. That's it, really. Would be interested to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading and until next time <3

A requiem for the forgotten On Wings of Merit Like so much of the entertainment industry, publishing has been known to play favourites with the types of authors and stories it highlights, preferring safe bets on familiar genres. Romantasy, YA dystopias, what have you. There Is No Antimemetics Division took a very different path to recognition. Written and posted online in installments between 2015 and 2020 as part of the SCP collaborative writing project and fandom, most would immediately assume it has no place as a physical novel – let alone one picked up for publication by Penguin Random House . But it can happen! As with Alchemised , which recently saw traditional publication with its Harry Potter fanfic serial numbers filed off, there is apparently real room for works to escape the purgatory that is online fanfic writing – provided the demand and/or merit is there. And I was incredibly impressed by this one! I recently read qntm's independently published version of the book, complete with references to the SCP Foundation, and that's the one I'll be referencing today. (If you've read the new version, Marion Wheeler = Marie Quinn and Bart Hughes = Ed Hix.) Spoilers ahead . As always, I highly recommend taking a look yourself first! Otherwise, let's dig in. There Is No Antimemetics Division , by qntm (Sam Hughes) Antimemetics The key idea of this book is the Antimemetics Division; part of a greater, secretive Foundation whose goal is to protect humanity from things we don’t understand. The Antimemetics Division deals with phenomena which are impossible to remember, to various degrees and specifics. Whether you know anything about the SCP fandom or not, the baseline idea of cataloguing and tracking entities you can't remember probably sounds like a challenge. And it is! The novel does a great job of introducing these ideas gradually through a few specific cases before adding layers of complexity and existential stakes into the mix. In addition to training and keen minds, the Antimemetics Division leverages drugs to enhance the memory and perception of its employees. Yet as is demonstrated throughout the novel, it takes only a fractional slip-up or a moderate external nudge to lose the memories of half your career and be required to rebuild from scratch. The book (mostly) follows protagonist Marion Wheeler, Director of Site 41 and Chief of the Antimemetics Division, as she confronts various antimemetic threats and slowly uncovers imminent, world-ending catastrophe. Director Marion Wheeler, art by Thomas Frank It's incredibly fascinating to me that many of the vignettes in the first half of the book are simply about the Division itself: whether Marion explaining it to others or researching it herself. We quickly learn that history in Marion's world is fragile and fleeting, that any consistent sense of self for her, the Division or humanity at large is at best a haphazard construction based on whatever shreds of information have yet to be forgotten. Well, surely then the existential threat is one which will wipe away all human memory? The reason so much history is lost is that it's already got its hooks in? Not in this book, anyway. The book never spells it out plainly, but the importance of the Antimemetics Division in this case is to combat the existence of a hyper-memetic idea/entity in the form of SCP-3125. It is a mind-virus you contract the moment you think of it, and the book pulls no punches in demonstrating how quickly it spreads once it gets going. Thus Marion (and the Division) spend the novel fighting a war they don't remember 99% of the time, with the exception of secure rooms (from which no data or memories can leave) and moments of horrifying revelation which must likewise be instantly erased to prevent catastrophe. Miraculously, this story crammed to bursting with fascinating science fiction ideas also manages to pull off a half-decent relationship story between Marion and her forgotten, presumed-dead husband Adam. His introduction halfway through the book is immediately up there on the list of all-time greats, and though he plays a huge role in saving the world, qntm ensures he is heroic and likeable in very different ways to Marion. Not overshadowing, but coloring in the gaps. Marion & Adam Wheeler, art by rottingraisins Unrecognized & Forgotten Heroes I'm sure there are multiple meanings and morals to be pulled from this text, though more than with any other work I question whether the author intended them or they simply arise from the ideas at play here. Believe it or not , my first instinct was mindfulness: that we're better off perceiving and tending to the present than dwelling in past or future. But even I can admit that we've maybe covered that topic enough in the past year. Instead, I want to focus on the title and its reverberations throughout the book. There Is No Antimemetics Division : because they've erased themselves from existence at least twice in order to save the planet from SCP-3125, or because they've erased our memory of them, or because you're their boss and want to conveniently forget about needing to pay them.(Again, this is the stuff SFF dreams are made of. I love the concepts in here so much, and the title brings them together perfectly.) The other direction this got me thinking in is about the invisible work that saves millions of lives each year, though we'll never know it. Watch this segment from Brennan Lee Mulligan on Ask Hank Anything if you have a moment! But essentially, the work that science and engineering, even in fields far away from health care, have done that regularly and passively save lives. It will never be remarked upon; the chain of cause and effect is rarely even perceivable; yet you and I are alive because of it. On the book's original cover is an alien monolith, all that meaningfully remains of a prior human civilization. On the new cover is a Cryptomorpha gigantes , a species of miles-tall megafauna with antimemetic properties which play a significant role in saving our species. So, what I take from this book (alongside a deep appreciation for its ideas) is an overwhelming gratitude for the forgotten. Those who came before us, those here alongside us, those who will save our lives in ten years even though no one will ever know it. (On the other hand, There Is No Antimemetics Division , that we know of. How scared should we be, of self-concealing ideas and entities?) There Is No Antimemetics Division (2025), design by Sara Bereta Apologies ... for the blank post. I meant to review a book today, but I'm having the hardest time remembering what it was. I already did The Devils and On the Calculation of Volume , right? Well, if you can somehow think of it, I highly recommend seeking it out! I think, anyway. What I do remember is I spent hours today engrossed in We Used To Live Here by Marcus Kliewer and am enjoying it greatly as a mashup of House of Leaves , Haunting of Hill House and I'm Thinking of Ending Things . Here's to hoping the final third doesn't suck! Thanks for reading and until next time <3