Who reads genre and doesn’t know who Catherynne M. Valente is? I suppose such people exist, but I don’t concern myself with them. I have certainly heard of her work as early as 2008 when a few late-to-the-game reviewers picked up her The Orphan’s Tales: In the Night Garden. First, I took notice of the cover, then the premise and then the actual author’s name, which sounds like a very good name for a genre author – fantastic and melodious.
As with Margo Lanagan, I followed the ripples her work created in the blogging community with the sad realization I couldn’t quite join in on the fun (books cost money, damn it). After this first meeting, I read reviews of Deathless, The Habitation of the Blessed and Palimpsest. My writing buddy Theresa Bazelli urged me to get a copy of The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, which I’m about to in the near future along with her back catalogue. In short, I already felt deep love for Valente’s work without having read a single page. It’s bizarre; I can’t explain it, but it has happened before multiple times. Call it a reader’s instinct, if you will.
It’s hard to explain why I haven’t been more proactive in hunting her work down. I guess I find it far sweeter to know I have excellent books yet to read and anticipate what wonders lie between the pages. I’m sure you have felt this excitement when you know what you’re going to read next, have it in your grasp but still need to crack it open. This moment before immersion where you’re about to fill your lungs with air and hold your breath – now that’s bliss. I have just been holding mine for too long. This all changed when I received a copy of her Six-Gun Snow White. Continue reading
Let’s talk about sex, baby.
I don’t know whether it’s because Australia gives birth to nature’s deadliest being in creation or it’s a coincidence, but the strongest voices in genre fiction to leave in an intransient mark in big ways hail from spider central down under. 
Genre escapes one unanimous definition as all big and rich things should and have. I often seek a definitive concept when it comes to genre, but that’s not really how it goes now, does it? Genre has the ultimate power to include, though it seems we devote time and resources to draw lines in the sand. When I set out to write Women in Genre, I considered whether or not to limit myself to fiction, because the initial discussion concerns the gender biases within publishing. A discussion locked between authors, reviewers and fans.
Once I mentioned how important Gemma Files became to me for her fearless inclusion of strong, gay characters as protagonists in a narrative, which prior to “A Book of Tongues” has featured a binary couple almost exclusively. I can’t speak about every book ever published, but it certainly felt like it was the only book willing to take Weird Western with its tough setting and tough men, definitive symbols of masculinity, and show raw masculinity didn’t suffer from homosexuality.
I honestly can’t speak about Ann VanderMeer and not continue the conversation with another of the most prolific editors in genre, Ellen Datlow. Datlow works in the shadows of genre and has a keen eye for twisted stories to terrify and delight the reader. I’m not saying anything new under the sun, because Datlow has been editing anthologies since before I’ve been born.*
Having completed several short story anthologies and collection and reading others, I have been thinking about short fiction more and more. There’s something to the brevity and the intensity of the narrative as a story rushes into fruition in a strict, clearly marked space. Even the silent ones, when written right, can leave just a distinct impression as a fully realized novel would. Writers have to see the magic, catch it in a single snippet and let it ripen for those with an ear to collect it for other’s enjoyment. 
Last I wrote about Amal El-Mohtar and her delicate aesthetic. Another author I highly value for her strong commitment to beauty in style is 
Yesterday, I touched upon my preference for beautiful prose. Consider me shallow, but I find the better stylists among SFF authors to tell a superior story, because well-crafted prose creates more depth and nuances than straightforward prose in service of a plot or character development. Yes, the latter two matter in general, but superior writing starts with excellent prose. An author with a grasp on how to write with a magical ease is 
