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talkstowolves
You guys remember Ravens in the Library, right? If you're not sure what I'm talking about, allow me to sum up: S.J. Tucker, traveling musician and fire-spinner extraordinaire, became terribly ill this past winter and had to undergo several very expensive medical procedures. Unfortunately, she did not have health insurance (which is the lamentable lot of many, many people in this country); what she did have, however, were amazing friends (writers, editors, and artists among them) and fans who created and bought a benefit anthology to assist her in paying off her medical debt.Ravens in the Library is that anthology. It is a limited edition collection edited by SatyrPhil Brucato and Sandra Buskirk, available only until Tucker's medical expenses have been covered.
I eagerly awaited this anthology. It arrived on March 30th, and I bravely resisted reading it until I could squeeze some downtime out of my semester, shoehorning Ravens in the Library in among Thomas Hardy ("Hap," "Neutral Tones," "A Broken Appointment"...) and John Keats ("The Eve of St. Agnes," "La Belle Dame Sans Merci"...) poetry. I finished it in less than a week, and then had to wait several weeks before I could find some more free time to share a review with you all.
Well, the time for review has come! In assembling my thoughts today, I discovered that this informal review was definitely going to run long. To that end, I have determined to break it up into two posts. Today, you get the first half of the stories on the TOC (with the musical pieces excluded). Tomorrow, you get the rest of the TOC, as well as my thoughts on the introduction, the lyrics included, and the art. Without further ado:
"Forbidden Brides of the Faceless Slaves in the Nameless House of the Night of Dread Desire," by Neil Gaiman.
From its ridiculously over-wrought title to its amusing inversion of reality, this story by Neil Gaiman leaves me feeling delighted and giggly. It's not a particularly deep meditation on the nature of writing and self-parody and the relationship of reality to fiction, but it's thought-provoking enough to leave one in a state of (perhaps slightly giddy, definitely bemused) musing at the close of the tale. However, most fans of Neil Gaiman will have already read this story in the collection Fragile Things.
"Out of the Box," by Ben Dobyns.
The first tale original to this anthology! Dobyns' story starts out delightfully whimsical, but quickly deteriorates into repetitive prose and nonsense. Dobyns seems to rely overmuch on personal knowledge of S.J. Tucker to the detriment of his deftness with characterization and the point of his narrative.
"Missing Limb" by Ari Berk.
While the language of this story is beautiful and evocative of fairy tales, the actual narrative lapses into incoherence very quickly. I left this tale unsure of much beyond the basic conceit of a young girl wandering into the woods, becoming lost, and encountering a witch who was not a bane to her life, but a boon. This story was quite disappointing in its failure, for it had much promise coming from the pen of Ari Berk. This is the second tale original to this anthology.
"Ten for the Devil," by Charles de Lint.
While this piece from Charles de Lint was certainly a welcome diversion, full of evocative scenes of minstrelsy and a truly intriguing twist on the Devil's bargain tale, it falls a little flat in overall tone. There's no real tension in the narrative: it reads more like a maundering tale you'd tell or be told while sitting a spell on a hot country day. There's certainly nothing wrong with that, and sometimes such stories work well on the page. This one, however, would have benefited more by being read aloud, with musical accompaniment from your fellow porch-lazers. Charles de Lint fans will already be familiar with this story from his Tapping the Dream Tree collection.
"You Go Where It Takes You," by Nathan Ballingrud.
This story was truly and fundamentally horrible. The narrator, a poor Southern woman down on her life and with a drag of a small kid, has no redeeming values and, in fact, damns herself as the point of the story. A damnation that, while being gruesomely reprehensible, is perhaps suggestively condoned by the story's weave. This story infuriated and sickened me and not in a potentially thought-provoking way. It's bad enough that this story was published once, in Ellen Datlow's SciFiction (Sci Fi Channel's online magazine). I rather wish it had not been collected in this benefit anthology as well.
"Mercury," by Elizabeth Jordan Leggett.
"Mercury" might have been better if the author could have decided from which perspective she wanted to tell the story. As it is, we're given a confusing mish-mash of animism and classic cars, the blues and old-fashioned heists, poisonous snakes and hitchhiking ghosts. Which sounds cool, until you try to read it in a mixture of focus-hopping third person omniscient and italicized near stream-of-consciousness. This is the third tale original to this anthology.
"1977," by Carrie Vaughn.
A satisfactory science fiction story about the endurance of music (some genres will live forever! Disco never dies!) and the potential for redemption in every life. Also, its opening scenes have some nicely evocative descriptions of dancing. This piece doesn't stand out, but it's the first solid story original to this anthology.
"Ice," by Francesca Lia Block.
I've never read any of Francesca Lia Block's work before, although I keep meaning to, and so I was excited to get to this story. I am also very fond of Hans Christian Andersen; retellings of The Snow Queen are always a potential treat. I found this to be nothing less than a compelling and modern recasting of that beloved fairy tale. If I had any complaints, it would be that it slips out of an early sense of realism into less realistic and derivative scenes toward the end of the story. However, the effectiveness of her voluptuous prose helps mitigate the narrative shift. Fans of Francesca Lia Block will have already read this story in her collection The Rose and the Beast: Fairy Tales Retold.
"Kinderkochen," by Alexandra Duncan.
Another fairy tale retelling, this time of "Hansel and Gretel." In case the original story was not gritty enough, Duncan here makes it, well, earthier. It's a worthwhile, compelling read with quite a satisfying conclusion concerning the rise of a new witch. The earthwise cleverness the heroine is imbued with, along with the uncomfortable decisions she makes, propelled this story into my top five of the anthology. Originally published in Rosebud #41, I am not surprised at all that "Kinderkochen" was nominated for the 2008 Mary Shelley award.
"Heartless," by Holly Black.
Holly Black turns in a serviceable fantasy story concerning the sacrifices people must make for power and the ultimate worth of those decisions. While the tale does not shy away from the rapine of war (both in battlefield looting and the traffick of flesh), Black simplifies the human interaction in a way that robs the narrative of potential pathos and depth. It is, at least, an empowering story with some fascinating spiritual entities. I imagine the slightly crippling simplicity of the tale results from it being originally published in Young Warriors: Stories of Strength, an anthology edited by Tamora Pierce and Josepha Sherman meant for younger readers.
"King of Crows," by Midori Snyder.
Falling in love with a crow is just a bad idea, but many a wandering bard isn't known for avoiding bad ideas. Snyder turns in an entertaining, slightly wistful tale about crow court succession, interspecies love, and the transformative nature of music. I'd love to see someone turn this into a graphic novel, perhaps with an accompanying album of instrumental arrangements... the story calls out for further treatment. This is definitely a reprint gem, as well, considering Xanadu 3 is long out of print.
"The Ballad of the Sinister Mr. Mouth," by Catherynne M. Valente.
In this tale, we find tropical birdmen, the congress of pirates, bizarre and ravished "musical instruments," and human-on-bird sexual violence. Elsewhere, Valente's work has been described as "hallucinatory hothouse prose." All of that applies here, but not in a good way, resulting in an uncomfortably odd but forgettable story. Fantastic title, though! This piece originally appeared at Lone Star Stories (#22).
"A Tithe for the Piper," by Erzebet YellowBoy.
Erzebet Yellowboy draws on the old tales of the Pied Piper, on the denizens of Faerie being bound to pay a tithe, and so many more bits of folk and fairy lore in this engrossing story both familiar and strange. I'm most intrigued by the powerful commentary on the relationship between liege and subjects that's so eloquently packed into this short piece. I'm also completely enchanted by the mixture of nature and fey with mortality and the city. This is the fifth tale original to this anthology, and one of the best.
"Built on Blood," by Storm Constantine.
The problem with this revised reprint from Interzone Magazine is that it takes a very personal perspective and tries to make a larger comment upon society through an impersonal experience. I dig the future, post-apocalyptic society set-up: Constantine is bang-on in her world-building. However, her choice of stage for re-casting Greco-Roman myth falls flat thanks to the disassociation of her heroine.
Return tomorrow for the rest of the review! You'll find talk of killer unicorns, Lost children, ever-changing semi-conscious houses, the Descent of Inanna in Vegas, and more!
Other reviews of Ravens in the Library:
k_crow 's review blurbs.thewronghands' thoughts.maverick_weirdo's write-up.jennifer_brozek's preliminary thoughts.(Anyone know of any other reviews? Let me know and I'll add them here!)