In her introduction to the recently-published Mammoth Book of SF Stories by Women, editor Alex Dally MacFarlane writes:
“Science fiction is always changing: at its best, it is always exciting, always saying something new. To say that the best science fiction of recent years is pushing the genre into new places is not a new statement – but I am incredibly excited by what the science fiction of recent years is doing. More than before, writers from around the world and of many backgrounds – gender, sexuality, ethnicity – are being published in English, in original and in translation. Their voices are changing science fiction, taking it into more futures and looking at our present and past in more ways. If science fiction is defined as looking at as many worlds as possible, it is an excellent time to be a reader.
I wanted to take a snapshot of this.”
The anthology contains 33 stories. Looking down the table of contents, I was immediately struck by how diverse it is – there are well known names here, but there are plenty of rising stars too. There are writers from a variety of ethnic backgrounds, with a wide range of stylistic and thematic concerns. At first glance, this book really does seem to present an informative snapshot of where science fiction is coming from today, and MacFarlane appears to have succeeded admirably in fulfilling her mission statement for the anthology.
All of which excites me. On the spur of the moment, I decided it might be interesting to work my way through the anthology in ToC order, blogging each story individually as I go. I don’t intend this to be a review as such – more a personal, off-the-cuff response to what I find on the page. I’ve read stories and in some cases novels by many of the writers featured, but I’m going to do my best not to think about what I already know of them, but simply to concentrate on each single story, as I encounter it. So here goes:
1) ‘Girl Hours’ by Sofia Samatar
This story is dedicated to Henrietta Swan Leavitt, an American astronomer who worked as a ‘computer’ at the Harvard Observatory in the 1890s, and whose discoveries in the field of stellar luminosity were later utilized by Edwin Hubble in determining that the Milky Way is not the only galaxy in our universe. Needless to say, Leavitt received little to no recognition within her own lifetime.
Samatar’s piece is in four short sections: Notes, Conclusion, Body and Introduction. The Notes are both a factual introit to Leavitt’s life and work, and an integral part of the formal structure of the text as a whole. The story hovers in the interstices between prose and poetry. The longest of the four sections, Body, explores the many different meanings of the word ‘body’ within the specific context of Leavitt’s experience:
The body was called a shining cloud, and then a galaxy. The body comforted mariners, spilt milk in the southern sky. The body was thought to be only 30,000 light years away. .. the body is generous, dedicated, seated again, reserved, exacting, brushed and buttoned, smelling of healthy soap, and not allowed to touch the telescope.
If this work contains a pivotal image, then perhaps it is formed by those words and not allowed to touch the telescope. I would describe Samatar’s story as passionate, muscular, angry. It is formally innovative, incredibly concise, inspired in its use of poetic imagery. Every page contained an image or an idea that I found original, thought provoking or otherwise useful.
I loved this work. It grows in strength on a second reading. There is enough material here for a novel, of course, but the fact that Samatar has achieved so much in just a thousand words or so is yet more evidence – if any were needed – of her very real, very solid literary talent. This piece fills me with energy and determination, and is a wonderfully promising opening to this anthology.