Black Gate Online, August 18, 2013

“So Go the Seasons” by Paul Abbamondi

Reviewed by Matthew Nadelhaft

This week’s issue of Black Gate is given over to a much shorter story than the previous two, Paul Abbamondi’s “So Go the Seasons.” It boasts an excellent premise but is slight on development. The sovereign of Gorodun, in addition to all his other perks, enjoys the ability to set the weather to his preferences. The current ruler, Lord Banamp, desires an endless summer to satisfy his love of gardens and flowers.

It’s a humorous concept: Banamp is despised for creating a world most of us would want to live in, because farmers in Gorodun depend on the regular seasons – particularly on winter – or “Whitehours.” I would have enjoyed reading about what these farmers do in the winter, what kind of crops they produced, but this information was bypassed to make a pacier story.

Instead of examining the lives of these farmers, Abbamondi tells us the story of Perry and his uncle Hobnor, who revolt against their sovereign. I like the idea of the peasants revolting over the weather, but their plan is far too simple. Hobnor has created two elixirs: one, when thrown, will destroy Banamp’s magical shield; the other will kill him. Apparently, Hobnor is able to create these impressive chemical concoctions because he paid attention in school.

Perhaps the ease with which Hobnor produces the means to kill their sovereign is a commentary on the easy availability of guns but, the way the story reads, it just adds to the sense of everything happening too easily. After Banamp is dead, Whitehours appears instantly – the day after it was due. Did the ruler’s death release the seasons to their previous schedule, or had Hobnor misjudged Banamp? And – wait a minute – did he really kill their ruler because the winter was one day late? It’s this haste that prevents an interesting and funny concept from growing into an equally intriguing story.

Abbamondi’s prose is generally good, but he has a habit of inserting words where they are not needed or even incorrect (can you really call a sign inequitable? Is “puckish” the right description for a man plotting murder? And “indeterminably” is not the same thing as “indeterminately”). And some of the descriptions, likewise unchecked, lead us places they weren’t intended to. For instance, the liquid in Perry’s bottle bubbles in the heat. It’s a strong image, but if you think about it for longer than the time it takes to read it, the description undoes itself. If the summer is hot enough to boil a standing liquid, why is anyone alive? This is lazy writing, both distracting and unnecessary, particularly so when much of the prose indicates Abbamondi has talent.