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4 August 2008

[Article by Mark Newheiser]

(Articles)

FICTION: Down the Well, by Alaya Dawn Johnson

I saw her clearly, then: beautiful and terrible, ancient and radical, a goddess as much as any human can be. Killing a hexapedal carnivore with a hand-made spear, hiding for two days from a giant amphibious jellyfish desperate for food, surviving alone in the Well for five years before the computers on this side even registered the malfunction--those rumors had floated around the agency for decades. I'd found it impossible to believe that such a small, unassuming woman had done all they said she did.

ARTICLE: Searching Under the Rug: Interfaces, Puzzles, and the Evolution of Adventure Games, by Mark Newheiser

What decades of evolution have done for the [adventure game] genre is refine the user interface. The genre's improvements are largely independent of the technology used and have gradually evolved in response to user feedback and designers' efforts to make the puzzles clear yet challenging.

COLUMN: Ordinary Zhang, by Matthew Cheney

A couple years ago, I picked up another copy of China Mountain Zhang at a used bookstore, but I didn't dare read it. Much of the science fiction I had loved as a teen had turned out, when read as an adult, to feel simplistic, clunky, shallow. I preferred my memories.

POETRY: Dystopian Dusk, by Bruce Boston

if they had slapped blinkers / on our eyes, narrowing our vision

REVIEW: This Week's Reviews, posted three times a week

Monday: Collected Poems by Mervyn Peake, edited by R.W. Maslen, reviewed by Adam Roberts
Wednesday: The Affinity Bridge by George Mann, reviewed by Hannah Strom-Martin
Friday: Escapement by Jay Lake, reviewed by Paul Kincaid

28 July 2008

[Reviews posted three times a week]

(Reviews)

COLUMN: Revisiting the Canon with Susannah! Wyrms, Wyrd, and Tolkien: Beowulf, Part 3, by Susannah Mandel

Bleeding and cowed, Grendel runs back to the marches to die. Is that the end of the story? Well, of course not. The poem would be a rollicking good tale even if that were the end, but it wouldn't be an epic.

FICTION: Called Out to Snow Crease Farm, by Constance Cooper

Margit worked the latch-bar of the gate, which was socketed in the bony pit of what must be an adzehorn skull. With its broad-bladed prongs removed--for tools perhaps?--and the flesh long gone, the skull looked bald and vulnerable, as homely as a cattle skull.

POETRY: Von Neumann's Poem, by Aaron Benson

Do not read this verse

REVIEW: This Week's Reviews, posted three times a week

Monday: Hello Summer, Goodbye and I Remember Pallahaxi by Michael G. Coney, reviewed by Colin Harvey
Wednesday: The Sharing Knife: Passage by Lois McMaster Bujold, reviewed by Greg Beatty
Friday: The Ninth Circle by Alex Bell, reviewed by Tanya Brown

21 July 2008

[Article by Neal Szpatura]

(Articles)

ARTICLE: Of Preachers and Storytellers: An Interview with Sheri S. Tepper, by Neal Szpatura

When the judges arrive to see how we've done, I don't think they'll rate us as "keepers." I believe there will be judges who will decide which races deserve to go on existing to accomplish whatever the universal task is. I also believe that all of us--the human race--have at most one shared human soul.

FICTION: The Magician's House (part 2 of 2), by Meghan McCarron

"How much do you want to know about magic?" he said. He was nervous, watching me carefully like I might bolt.

POETRY: A Posthuman, Blind and Appendage-less Stump of Flesh Experiences the Sensation of Reading Various Editions of “Gravity’s Rainbow” in a Temperature Controlled Room with Cloroxed-White Walls., by Christopher Hellstrom

I could experience it as a Medieval text

REVIEW: This Week's Reviews, posted three times a week

Monday: Two Views: The Margarets by Sheri S Tepper, reviewed by Nic Clarke and Sherryl Vint
Wednesday: Lost Boys by James Miller, reviewed by Martin Lewis
Friday: Martin Martin's on the Other Side by Mark Wernham, reviewed by Jonathan McCalmont

14 July 2008

[Reviews posted three times a week]

(Reviews)

FICTION: The Magician's House (part 1 of 2), by Meghan McCarron

The magician was a tall, spindly man with surprisingly thick hands and dark, graying hair. He folded into the chair like a marionette. To meet me, he wore black stretch pants, a silk pajama shirt, a burgundy cardigan, and decaying black flip-flops. If I had seen him on the street, I would have laughed, but in the oven-room he looked right at home, whereas I felt self-conscious in my khaki shorts and pre-faded T-shirt. I had even blow-dried my hair. For the first time, instead of feeling invisible in my prepster clothes, I felt exposed.

POETRY: Why She Canceled Her Online Dating Membership: A Martian Female Responds (a triolet), by Terrie Leigh Relf

You ask why I'll no longer date a human? /

REVIEW: This Week's Reviews, posted three times a week

Monday: Flood by Stephen Baxter, reviewed by Adam Roberts
Wednesday: The Princes of the Golden Cage by Nathalie Mallet, reviewed by Hannah Strom-Martin
Friday: Elric: The Stealer of Souls (Chronicles of the Last Emperor of Melniboné: Volume 1) by Michael Moorcock, reviewed by Nader Elhefnawy


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Graphic design by Elaine Chen.

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