A collection of 30 stories by various authors, placed under the heading of "speculative fiction." The lengths vary, a few only a couple of pages, others closer to 50. 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 don't have much sci-fi. Joe Haldermann's "Road Kill" feels like the outline of a 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 in. Either that or James Patrick Kelly's "Unique Visitors." Both are brief and focused on unpleasant forms of immortality people tried to buy themselves. In contrast, 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 one 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 two pages in, and the rest felt like killing time until the climax. I didn't even attend my own college graduation ceremony, why would I want to read about a fictional one?
There were some 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," which 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 being or setting, 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 people can visit other places through and time moves differently, but the people are still basically people. Recognizable in their follies and desires, even if the setting is somewhat different. Stephen Baxter's "In the Un-Black," I 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 stopped 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
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