"Robots and Falling Hearts" by Tim Pratt and Greg van Eekhout

"At the Queen’s Hotel" by Kate Riedel

"At the Top of the Black Stairs" by Darrell Schweitzer

"Dead Wolf in a Hat" by Graham Edwards

"The Ecology of Fairie" by David D. Levine

"The Rain God" by Way Jeng

"Robots and Falling Hearts" by Tim Pratt and Greg van Eekhout begins interestingly, with a plague of robots. All kinds of robots, large, small, customized; each with specific functions mirrored in the real world. The important questions of just how and why this is happening form the core narrative of the story. The unnamed protagonist, fresh from a two year sojourn in Tibet, accosts a woman (again unnamed) in the streets of Los Angeles, hoping she can supply some answers; after all, she was there when the robots appeared. Coincidentally (or highly improbably, but let’s give artistic license a pass), she is the cause of the robot plague, and has escaped from a government facility where she was under observation and study. In essence, the story deals with shifting reality, and the power of the mind to alter same. Touching on the usual issues when treating this theme, the authors then seem to center on the dark side of the mind and what we all hold within us, and toss in a clichéd dollop of eastern mysticism to help explain it all.

"Robots" begins with an interesting puzzle. The visual element—the variety of robots juxtaposed into the real world—keeps one turning the pages. The denouement, however, lacks freshness and originality, relying heavily on the too-recognizable superficialities/clichés from the eastern mystic angle (there is even a passing, humorous reference to "Grasshopper," made famous from the 1970’s Kung Fu television show; as if the authors realized they were treading into cliché-territory and wanted to let the reader know that they knew it too). I suspect that if Pratt and van Eekhout were to write this story thirty years from now, it would reveal a depth of insight and a wisdom they’re only able to hint at in this one. A decent effort, but not wholly successful where it really counts.

Kate Riedel‘s "At the Queen’s Hotel" is less ambitious than "Robots," and while more low-key in style, tone, and theme, is, in its own quiet way, more successful. While setting and local atmosphere carry the water in this one, "At the Queen’s Hotel" is the story of a wandering guitarist and the "magic" guitar he has come into possession of, through not altogether noble means. While the backstory of the guitar, its current owner, and their present circumstances (a fill-in gig at a Queen’s Hotel, which are ubiquitous in Canada), are not terribly original taken as an overall package, I found something in the specifics that made this story much more interesting—for me. If I’m not reading into the story something that isn’t there, then I see the author reworking the legendary story (or at least an important aspect of it) of Blues guitarist Robert Johnson. Johnson was a Mississippi born Delta Blues guitarist. He studied under several of the early great blues guitarists, traveled and played on his own, but without the success he thought he deserved. So the story has it that Johnson went to a crossroads (thought of as an evil sign) at midnight, invoked some ancient incantation summoning the devil, and sold his soul for fame. The devil is said to have gifted his guitar, and from then on Johnson played with an original style that led to early recording contracts. While Johnson never achieved fame or fortune in his life, he has achieved more fame than even he could have imagined since his untimely death, with all sorts of rock groups "covering" his songs. The most famous, probably, is the early Clapton/Cream cover of Johnson’s "Crossroad Blues" as "Crossroads."

So in both cases, we have an ensorcelled guitar, and a wandering guitar player who acquired his strange axe by nefarious means. The real tip-off (if I’m reading the story correctly) comes when a certain song title is mentioned: "The Old Crossroads is A-Waitin." Since many background details aren’t filled in, I fancy the idea that maybe, just maybe, the enigmatic guitar in "At the Queen’s Hotel" might just be the incarnation of old Robert Johnson’s devil-magicked instrument.

(A quick side-note and SF perspective: Robert Johnson (1911-1938) was contemporary with Robert E. Howard (1906-1936). Both led adventurous, troubled lives and died early. While Howard was attached to, and loved his mother so much that when she died he put a bullet in his brain, Johnson married a childhood sweetheart in 1930 and she became the center of his life. When she died during childbirth, Johnson was crushed, and not long after made his deal with the devil, which led to his downfall. Rumor has it that one of his enemies (of which he made several) poisoned his whiskey bottle after a juke joint performance. Quite the drinker, Johnson drank the poisoned whiskey and died an agonizing death. If only Howard’s mother and Johnson’s wife had survived, what further legacy might we have had from them both? Can you imagine an alternate history story where Howard and Johnson ahem, crossed paths? What a night of drunken, back and forth storytelling that would be, as the blues player and boxer/writer give each other ideas which would later emerge in their songs and stories.)

Though not a flashy story, this reviewer must nevertheless give "At the Queen’s Hotel" a qualified positive mark for its ability to stimulate thought.

"At the Top of the Black Stairs" is Darrell Schweitzer‘s latest dark fantasy effort, and a good one it is. Told in classic, beautifully descriptive prose (though the images are stark, forbidding, and bleak), this piece tells of an ancient, long-dead, and once-mighty king brought back from the dust of Death to deliver a message. "At the Top of the Black Stairs" perches a black tower, wherein sit Death and Time who are puzzling over a chess game, with pieces carved in mortal likenesses. The king will be granted life once more if only he will promise to deliver a message to those who have usurped his kingdom through betrayal. How this plays out due to the dark import of the whispered message and its fear-laden consequences, renders this short morality tale’s stinger absolutely appropriate. Short on dialogue, and delightfully long on precise images to evoke the sought-after mood (the peppering of dark, well-realized scenes are just perfect and a credit to the author), as well as the outcome of the chess match between Death and Time pronounced in the final line, make "At the Top of the Black Stairs" a thoroughly satisfying little gem by an underrated author. If you like Tanith Lee’s rich, descriptive prose with every word carefully chosen, you’ll appreciate Schweitzer’s as well.

"Dead Wolf in a Hat" by Graham Edwards is a surprisingly well-done Hammett/Chandler noir detective homage. I say surprising because I have read far too many of this sort of thing that have failed. More often than not the author believes the job is done if he captures merely the dialogue—which usually comes across as totally clichéd at worst and agonizingly cutesy at best. But Graham Edwards not only accomplishes this aspect casually and effortlessly, he throws in werewolves (with a clever twist or two that work quite well), VR (with a twist that works…okay), and the Titans of mythology as high stakes gamblers, all of which are set in a weird high-tech world where the seedy, gritty, detective trappings veil the aforementioned VR, high-tech infrastructure.

"Dead Wolf in a Hat" is a fun romp, with enough inventiveness to make the story fresh. I really enjoyed how the werewolves worked, which I won’t give away. My only quibble is the introduction of VR, which rips internal story plausibility wide open and gives the author too many easy outs where anything goes, thus destroying reader faith in the reality (whatever it may be) of the story. Very few have been able to make this work, though it has been done on occasion. I recall that Roger Zelazny’s final novel did this quite successfully, but the successes are few and far between. Here the author comes very close to succeeding, but it still seemed jarring when first introduced, and elicited an involuntary groan from this reader. Still, I recommend the story for its casual mastery of the detective sub-genre dialogue and the new ways in which werewolves operate in this world.

"The Ecology of Fairie" by David D. Levine is a contemporary urban fantasy featuring a lonely 16 year-old girl, Dora, her mother who is dying of cancer, and how she deals with her mother’s illness and a bunch of evil, murderous fairies down at a drainage ditch who are killing off the frogs she loves to hear go bredeep-bredeep. While Levine accomplished what he set out to do with this well written young adult tale of sorrow and responsibility, I freely admit this just isn’t my cup of tea. I had my fill of this sort of dreary, sad, emotional fantasy fiction (push all available emotional buttons—loneliness, sadness, imminent death—add some fairies and voilà) back in the early ’90s when KKR was editing F&SF, and it’s not unique to this magazine, either. If you are new to this kind of gentle fantasy, then you will like "The Ecology of Fairie." If you’ve read too many like it over the years, you might find yourself trying to be interested, but ultimately bored. Nothing is wrong with the story per se, it’s just of a kind I’ve read many times before and is not to my current taste.

"The Rain God" by Way Jeng is another contemporary urban fantasy. This time, a man discovers and befriends an apartment neighbor who believes himself to be "The Rain God" of the title. In several short segments we learn more and more about Martin, who was once a powerful rain god, but now, since no one believes in him any longer, his powers have dwindled to almost nothing. He desperately wants the protagonist to believe in him, travel to Montana, and start a cult, for the more people once again believe in him the more powerful he will become. The protagonist declines, which infuriates Martin. There’s a little more, but you get the picture.

The writing is fine, but the theme has been worked to death a hundred times over, and as far as I could tell, the author has added nothing substantially different, or new. Not to make slight of the theme, but the first time I ran across it I was just shy of 16, back in 1966. The story was "The Flash Stakes His Life On You," and appeared in issue No. 163 of DC’s Flash comic (Aug. 1966). A scientist has invented a radiation device that can induce selective amnesia. Learning that no one remembers him, the Flash discovers that his very corporeality is fading; he is literally becoming unsolid, as if he were fading from existence. Confronting the scientist, Flash is told that the reality of one’s existence is maintained by the belief others have in one. John Broome (the author, now deceased) had written to the identical theme explored by the author of "The Rain God." Now, if I came across this same theme as a kid some 40 years ago in a comic book, how original can it be?

I’d like to see more of this author’s writing, but the unoriginal treatment of such an old theme failed to impress.

Overall, the October issue of Realms of Fantasy is decent enough, but with no real fireworks lighting up the autumn sky.  Though I’d give Darrell Schweitzer a couple of roman candle salutes for his exquisite imagery.