Davies Okungbowa, David Mogo, Godhunter (2019)

Suyi Davies Okungbowa, David Mogo, Godhunter. Abbadon Books, 2019. Pp. 365. ISBN 978-1-7810-8649-0. $9.99/£7.99.

Reviewed by Djibril al-Ayad

This debut novel by Arizona-based Nigerian author Davies Okungbowa, published as a stand-alone novel by shared-world genre publisher Abbadon Books, falls somewhere between the genres of urban fantasy and self-defined “godpunk.” A fast-paced, entertaining novel that skates past any plot holes or unevenness in characterization, as it moves relentlessly toward its explosive climax—actually, there are at least two or three such climaxes throughout the book. The setting is refreshing, neither exoticising Africa as so many Anglo-American authors might, nor glossing over or apologising for the faults of Lagos as a city (both real and fictional), and like the demigod protagonist David Mogo, the story storms a larger than life rampage through the rollercoaster turns in the plot and cast of characters. The writing is not flawless, and the novel does not escape the clichés of its genre, but it is on balance a good read, and a great introduction to an author we hope to see more scifi or fantasy from in the future.

Kaleidotrope 44 (2019)

Kaleidotrope, ed. Fred Coppersmith. Issue #44 (Summer 2019). Online at kaleidotrope.net or Kindle.

Reviewed by N.A. Jackson

This is a strong collection of well-written, fresh and original fiction and poetry. The only thing that could have improved the reading experience for me would have been a print copy but Kaleidotrope ceased print publication in 2012 and is now only an on-line zine like many others. I still can’t help enjoying the smell and feel of paper, even while I abhor the waste of resources. Visually this edition is a treat with its faintly disturbing artwork in pink and purple by Patrick King, of ghostly jellyfish looming up against a black ground. The same image is used to good effect as a banner at the conclusion of each piece giving a unity to the collection.

Ghalayini, Palestine +100 (2019)

Basma Ghalayini (ed.), Palestine +100: Stories from a century after the Nakba. Comma Press, 2019. ISBN 978-1-9109-7444-5. £9.99.

Reviewed by Shellie Horst

Palestine +100 won a PEN Translates Award. It consists of twelve stories which explore a Palestinian future set one hundred years after the Nakba, the exile of 700,000 Palestinians from their homes in 1948. Written by acclaimed Palestinian authors, who use a number of subgenres to challenge what westerners take for granted in SF. Each story takes you to another reality, and uses what’s right in front of us to do it. I had a feeling the book would be unique. I wasn’t expecting to be blind-sided.

Sriduangkaew, And Shall Machines Surrender (2019)

Benjanun Sriduangkaew, And Shall Machines Surrender. Prime Books, 2019. Pp. 108. ISBN 978-1-607015-34-5. $9.99.

Reviewed by J. Moufawad-Paul

There is a Julius Eastman composition, “EN,” that uses the constraints of four pianos facing each other, with one pianist directing, each playing a sparse set of themes. Through timed disunity and unity—the latter generated by the directing pianist counting down aloud at key moments—EN is one of the most elegant and complex contemporary compositions. Somehow it manages to generate a stunning depth, lacking in longer pieces with less constraints, despite and because of its minimalist boundaries. I first heard this piece played live at the 2015 Venice Biennale, curated by the late Okwui Enwezor, and was floored by its “less is more” structure.

If we think of Benjanun Sriduangkaew’s novella And Shall Machines Surrender as a composition, it is similar to this Eastman piece. A limited number of characters, two points of view, and a short period in which the present action plays out. At the same time, Sriduangkaew strips down her always beautiful prose: it is less ornate and dense than her other works—a kind of velocity and immediacy are imported into her style so that it becomes stream-lined and slightly spartanized—but still sings. Just like Eastman’s minimalism. Within these constraints something dense and complex coalesces. Something entirely cinematic.

Resnick, Master of Dreams (2019)

Mike Resnick, The Master of Dreams. DAW books, 2019. Pp. 294. ISBN 978-0-7564-1384-2. $26.00.

Reviewed by Lisa Timpf

Mike Resnick’s fantasy novel The Master of Dreams opens with a seemingly ordinary couple enjoying what starts out as an ordinary day. Protagonist Eddie Raven is strolling the streets of Manhattan, shopping with his girlfriend Lisa. Or rather, Lisa is shopping, with Eddie tagging along good-naturedly, though he can’t resist tossing out mild protests about the need to visit so many stores. The tone of the book shifts when, at Lisa’s insistence, they stop in at a fortune teller’s shop. A tall man who Eddie thinks looks familiar, though he can’t put a name to him, also enters the store just as Eddie and Lisa begin talking to the fortune-teller, who introduces himself as Mako. It’s odd enough that Mako knows Lisa’s name without being told, but when he tells a shocked Lisa, “‘You will die in seconds!’” the tension ratchets up. Mako then turns to Eddie and says, “‘Why did you come here? You know better!’” (7) Initially, Eddie is ready to dismiss Mako’s words as a fortune-teller’s sales pitch to get the customer to shell out money for a reading. That is, until a gunman bursts through the door and shoots both Lisa and Mako. The gun-wielder turns toward a startled Eddie, who has no idea why all this is happening. Just as a shot is fired in Eddie’s direction, the tall man leaps in front of Eddie to take the bullet.