"Women of the Lace" by Sandra McDonald
"Letters to the Journal of Experimental History" by Robert Lopresti
"A Vampire and a Vampire Hunter Walk into a Bar" by Keith R.A. DeCandido

History is not only written by the victors, but almost always by the men.  One of my old history teachers used to make great play of the fact that the subject’s name, when broken down, was "His Story" and spent a great deal of time teaching us to approach the subject from a far less gender specific viewpoint.

"If Women of the Lace" is anything to go by, Sandra McDonald would have got on very well with my old teacher.  Opening with Sue Lu, the main character, explaining why she’s in the middle of a seemingly pointless robbery, "Women of the Lace" flashes back to a time when she was shipwrecked with her grandmother. To pass the time, the older woman chooses to teach her not only lacemaking but the secret history of lace making.  From feudal Europe to Mary, Queen of Scots, and Mattie Washington, she peels back history in a style which is anecdotal, amiable, and very close to the accepted version.  Here, the women of history not only play a vital role, but McDonald even contextualizes why they are overlooked so often. 

There’s a fairy tale feel to much of the story, in tone rather than actual subject matter.  Presented here, it both sits neatly next to accepted history and is a clear and definite departure from it. There’s the same energetic, enthusiastic approach to the subject matter you get in the very best pulp fiction, that same gleeful hurling of ideas and connections at the page which sweeps the reader up and carries them to the end of the story.  This is particularly true of the ending, where we find out not only why the robbery has taken place, but who exactly is who.

If I have a criticism of it, it’s simply this:  The anecdotal nature of the story, the strong voice of the central characters, is at first a little daunting. McDonald skips through hundreds of years of history in very little time and it takes a little while for the reader to catch up with her. Once caught up, however, the result is a rewarding, unique take on modern fiction and ancient history.  Or perhaps more accurately, her story.

"What if?" is a question which lies at the heart of almost every story, the starting point for hundreds of thousands of stories in every genre imaginable.  From Hollywood to Shakespeare, modern comics to Marlowe, thousands of stories begin with that simple question.  What if the son and daughter of two rival families fell in love?  What if a scientist made a deal with the devil?  What if a billionaire lost his parents as a child and dedicated the rest of his life to fighting crime? 

Robert Lopresti‘s piece, "Letters to the Journal of Experimental History," takes that question and uses it as the basis for a science.  Presented, exactly as the title suggests, as a series of letters, Lopresti’s offering gives the reader an insight into a world where "What If?" is the basis for an entire field of study. Experimental history, and the perfection of time travel that it sprang from, means that every wrinkle can be explored, every variation noted and studied. This is a universe where the creation of other universes is commonplace and, judging by the letters presented here, done in a less-than-responsible way.

It’s a brave move, trying to tell a story through so many different, and short, voices, but Lopresti manages it.  Here we get background on how the science was invented, the fundamentally unethical early experiments that still taint it, and the current state at play in the field.  From the discovery that Kennedy was fated to die during his presidency to the accidental placing of a fountain pen next to the Dead Sea Scrolls, Experimental History is presented as a field which is as intimidating as it is enticing. There’s a feeling here of science with the brakes off, of a catastrophe just around the corner that gives the story a slightly manic feel that helps propel it along. 

Ironically, its one weak spot is the change in authorial voice.  While most of the correspondents stand out as individuals, there’s a single slip into sophomoric humor that drags the reader out of the story.  It’s a good joke, but its placement damages the story’s pacing.  That aside, this is another strong, unusual entry.

It used to be so simple.  The vampire lived in a castle somewhere in the middle of Europe.  He wore a cape.  He seduced virgins.  He had a thick European accent.  The vampire hunter, on the other hand, tended to favor thick dustcoats, a big hat, a crossbow, and often a flaming cross and would regularly engage in acts of derring-do while rescuing said virgin from said vampire.  It was the same story, over and over again.  You knew where you stood.  You knew what needed to be done, what was expected of you.  Not anymore.

Keith R.A. DeCandido‘s story, "A Vampire and a Vampire Hunter Walk Into a Bar," is presented entirely as dialogue and is a conversation between a vampire and a vampire hunter.  Neither is named, neither need to be named, and they talk with the easy familiarity of old work colleagues.  The vampire bemoans the fact that so few modern vampires realize how lucky they are but relishes the challenge of electronic security systems. The vampire hunter, for his part, mutters darkly about how he’s being sued by a girl left alive following a vampire attack who’s angry at him for not turning her into Buffy.  They bicker and talk over one another in a way that only old friends truly can, and at the end of the night, the usual happens.  After all, the pretence has to be kept up, even in a century neither of the two was born in.

DeCandido’s dialogue has a natural rhythm to it as the two characters dance around one another. There’s an easy sense of familiarity, their centuries spent locked in combat giving them an intimate understanding of one another which is often extremely funny.  However, what really makes it work is the fact that neither, when it comes down to it, really care any more.  Both men are tired, slightly bored, and enjoy one another’s company far more than they’d care to admit.  There’s a gentle, almost affectionate air to the banter that raises the story far above the usual vampire/vampire hunter fare.   Again, there’s a sequence which seems slightly out of place (in this case, a discussion of the American mindset that comes very close to nationalism), but it’s great fun and rounds out an extremely strong group of stories.