A collection of 30 stories by various authors, placed under the heading of "speculative fiction." The length vary, as a few are only a couple of pages, while others run closer to 50 pages. It seems like they're supposed to be science fiction - Sarrantonio apparently wanted something like a modern version of what Harlan Ellison pulled together in the '60s - but some of them don't feel like there's much sci-fi. Joe Haldermann's "Road Kill" feels like the outline of s script for a serial killer thriller, with a tiny bit of science fiction tacked on at the end.
Sarrantonio's own offering, "Billy the Fetus," is a bizarre piece about the child of Billy the Kid and the woman who apparently killed him and every other man that fucked her, and what the fetus learned about the world from the songs she sang while he was in her womb. Harry Turtledove's is set in Afghanistan during the 1980s, and involves a dragon. It's not a bad story, I'm just not sure how it's either science fiction or speculative fiction.
It was rough sledding at times, is what I'm getting at. Thomas Disch's "In Xanadu" was probably the first one I actually enjoyed, and that was over 100 pages into the collection. It was that or James Patrick Kelly's "Unique Visitors." Both of which are brief and focused on unpleasant forms of immortality people tried to buy themselves. David Morrell has an entry, "Resurrection," about people sacrificing their present and futures for a bit of the past they can't bring themselves to let go of.
The most noteworthy thing to me about Joyce Carol Oates' "Commencement," was the realization I've apparently been confusing Oates with some other writer, which was I don't know, as I thought she was part of the Lost Generation, hanging around Paris with Gertrude Stein and Hemingway. As for the story itself, I figured out the basic arc from two pages in, and the rest just felt like filler. I didn't even attend my own college graduation ceremony, why would I want to read about a fictional one?
There were some decent stretches where I got into the stories more. Paul Di Filippo's "Weeping Walls" was farcical in a way I enjoyed. Meaning it was cynical towards targets I don't mind seeing take the hits. I wouldn't have minded it if were a bit longer (it was ~15 pages.) That was followed by Gregory Benford's "Anomalies" was kind of clever, with a nice twist at the end.
I think I preferred stories where the characters are human or close enough the writer doesn't spend a lot of effort describing some alien, utilizing made up terms I can't visualize from what's on the page well enough to connect with the story. Like, "Pockets" had weird bubbles that people can visit other places in and time moves differently, but the people are still basically people. Recognizable in their follies and desires, even if the setting is different. Stephen Baxter's "In the Un-Black," I just couldn't really wrap my head around what sort of society he was trying to describe. Not well enough to care about the characters caught in it, anyway.
'He went to the bubble and kicked it angrily. He couldn't feel anything but "stop," with his sneaker on. It wasn't like kicking an object, it was like something you, turned you back towards your own time flow. Just "stopness." It was saying "no" with the stuff of forever itself. There was no way to look inside it. Once someone crawled through a pocket's navel, it sealed up all over.' - from "Pockets, by Rudy Rucker and John Shirley









