Tor.com, January 2021
“Let All the Children Boogie” by Sam J. Miller
“#Selfcare” by Annalee Newitz
“Shards” by Ian Rogers
Reviewed by Tara Grímravn
Tor.com published three stories this month, one each in SF, fantasy, and horror.
“Let All the Children Boogie” by Sam J. Miller
It’s the 1980s, and the Cold War is in full swing. Awkward teen Laurie is shopping at a thrift store when she first meets Fell. Fell was singing a song by Iggy Pop that had been played the night before on a radio program called The Graveyard Shift, catching Laurie’s attention and sparking an instant bond between the two. As the two discuss the strange interference that seemed to interrupt the Iggy Pop song during the broadcast, they decide to drive to Woodstock the next morning to check out a record store. That same night, as Laurie listens to the radio program again, the interference returns. This time, it clearly says much more. Is it the Russians, some terrorist cell taking over the air waves, or something else more mysterious?
Dedicated to David Bowie and David Mitchell, Miller’s SF story is more about gender identity and relationships than it is about the weird voice on the radio. The voice merely serves as a delivery device for hope in terms of Fell and Laurie’s relationship, a message for a love that may or may not survive as it depends solely on the actions of the lovers. In short, it’s about not letting others dictate who one is or for whom one cares. It’s certainly an interesting story that ends on an intriguing note, leaving the conclusion about the voice up for debate.
“#Selfcare” by Annalee Newitz
Sometime in the near future, Edwina works the reception desk in one of San Francisco’s high-profile skincare salons, Skin Seraph. Unlike some of her co-workers, this job is nothing but a paycheck for her, not a career choice. As she stands there bored and waiting for the end of her shift, she notices a strange, skinless woman smiling at her through the salon’s front window. As the woman touches the glass, it cracks into spider webs as if about to shatter. When Edwina screams, the woman disappears, and the window shows no signs of any damage whatsoever. When the creepy visitor returns the next day with antics that threaten their jobs at Skin Seraph, Edwina and her friends are trying to figure out what exactly is going on when one of them suggests it could be the fae. After all, a lot of brands use them as consultants. That’s not possible, though, right? Fae don’t really exist…and if they did, why would they be terrorizing Skin Seraph?
This is a fun story. I must admit, I appreciated the humor and what felt to me like generational observations. The bits about grizzled millennials discussing politics in a bar that Edwina and her friends think is “the real San Francisco” just because it was built in the early 2000s (40 years ago by the story’s timeline) made me giggle. The idea of fae being brand consultants is also fun, and I love that the fae aren’t portrayed as happy, friendly little sprites with wings. Newitz’s fae can bite, just like in folklore! This one makes the recommended list for me.
“Shards” by Ian Rogers
Chad, Mark, Donna, Marcie, and Annabelle suffered a horrible experience during what should have been a fun getaway to a remote rented cabin. After discovering a gramophone in the cellar, the group unleashed something sinister that resulted in Marcie’s death. Months later, the five friends have cut contact with each other, each trying to deal with the aftermath of that terrifying night in the cabin.
Right from the start, hints of The Evil Dead and other similar “cabin in the woods” type tales can be felt in Rogers’s story. So much so, in fact, that the whole thing feels almost like a subtle homage to Bruce Campbell and Sam Raimi’s cult classic, among others. Even the character names are so stereotypical of that type of American horror film. That said, while the story is a decent read, it’s hard to really connect to the characters. We only get to experience their “normal” selves in brief glimpses as we’re vaguely filled in on what they were like before the tragedy. We don’t even really get to experience the tragedy as readers, since the story is focused on the group after the fact. So, for most of the tale, Mark and his friends are not relatable.
Then again, that may be the point all along. Upon experiencing all that he did in that infamous cabin where he fought the Evil Dead, would Ash really have been able to walk away as unaffected as he did? I’d wager that, in real life, the sassy, catchphrase-slinging, chainsaw-handed hero audiences love would not. Rogers’s characters are deeply affected by the incident, becoming nearly unrecognizable shells of their former selves as a result of their experience, which may be the more realistic outcome.