Interzone Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine #223 (21 page)

It sounds good, and yet ... Prospero has incarnated Caekias as a Bogart-style private detective who, for no reason I can see, has taken the name of Mab, the other queen of the fairies in Shakespeare (Titania's predecessor according to Brahms and Simon). The name is doubly unfortunate because he doesn't talk like Bogart, he talks like Max in
Hart to Hart
. His incessant carping about his conditions of servitude is like Marvin's in
Hitchhiker
, but goes on for so long (especially when the action goes to sea) that I was reminded of Goldstein in
The Navy Lark
. “Forward lookout here, what about my promotion?"

Prospero frustrated Miranda's marriage to Ferdinand, hoping to make her a puppet queen of Naples. He imprisoned Ferdinand in Limbo, the first circle of Hell, inadvertently releasing him when he himself was captured—that's how Ferdinand tells it, but can he be trusted? He's looking remarkably well on it when he reappears in our time. Miranda has remained a virgin, but during the reign of Charles I she was tempted by a prince of the elves who let her down. Now he too reappears in her life, but the elven court want nothing to do with her unless she will end the bondage of the winds, Ariel and the other spirits bound by Prospero. She can't do it: there is the issue of the damage the elementals will do if loosed again upon our world, but also it's clear to the characters and increasingly to the reader that she has been enchanted (in any other context we'd say brainwashed or conditioned) never to question Prospero's judgement or commands.

There are major issues here about responsibility, freedom and control. Mab's frequent citations of the US constitution are intended to strike chords which UK readers will recognise even if they respond less to them. It's quite possible to explore moral issues in fantasy: Gary Gibson's
The Ranch
, last year in
White Screen of Despair
, was a powerful metaphor for people-trafficking. Yet
Prospero Lost'
s issues all come to a head during a Christmas party hosted for the Elf Court, at the North Pole, by Santa Claus! I could just about take it when Santa manifested himself briefly at a shopping mall, earlier in the novel, when I was still reading it as light comedy. But after Mab and Ariel's continual complaints, to find out in Santa's hall that we are supposed to take those questions seriously was a mental leap too far.

Volume 2 is to be entitled
Prospero in Hell
, where he has hitherto been imprisoned under torture for three months. Watching President Obama tying himself in knots over the issues of waterboarding and extraordinary rendition, on the news as I write this, I wonder how Ms Lamplighter will handle that without the risk of seeming to treat it for laughs.

Copyright © 2009 Duncan Lunan

Reviewed by Paul Cockburn

Myths, fairytales and a lot of children's fiction just love orphans; lacking parents, they are at once fantastically free of the usual restrictions of parental control and yet also vicariously bereft of their protection, outsiders from the established building block of society—the family—and so therefore far more vulnerable to abuse, danger and plot contrivances. At first glance, the titular Fever Crumb is almost a textbook case. She is a lone teenage girl brought up amongst a guild of engineers, whose main role is to help recycle whatever ‘old tech’ is still around and functioning in their somewhat disappointingly Dickensian post-apocalyptic London. Although tolerated by her fellow Engineers, Fever is, by dint of her age and gender, not quite one of them; just as their adherence to logic and reason distinguishes the Engineers from the fearful London mobs who see danger in anyone or anything out of the ordinary.

This isn't without reason, of course. Fever's London is a city that, within living memory, was cruelly ruled by the Scriven, dapple-skinned ‘homo superiors', and their reanimated corpse warriors, the Stalkers. Although supposedly wiped out during the Skinners riots, the Scriven have become useful bogeymen for those looking to stir up trouble. Particularly at a time when there's the real threat of an invading fleet of technologically advanced ‘barbarians’ from the North who are intent on conquest.

This is the colourful backdrop from which Philip Reeve launches his tightly-plotted narrative; the essential driving force of which is Fever's discovery of her own heritage—and her connection with the hidden underground workshop that belonged to the last of London's Scriven overlords, the feared Auric Godshawk. In the course of her adventures, Fever matures considerably by learning to recognise the unspoken agendas of the adults around her.

Fever's progress is mirrored by Charley Shallow, a less-fortunate orphan who is put in the employ of the last Scriven-hunter by his brutish master, the politically ambitious fighter-publican Ted Swiney. While Charley's life lessons don't uncover his own past, he does at least learn about the importance of life now and in the future.

Fever Crumb
is certainly an entertaining novel, although references to the circular ‘moatway’ (aka the m25) and the Oyster shells to pay for public transport are surely just a tad too self-conscious for anybody over the age of 12—which given the expected readership of the book is not surprising. For the most part, though, the writing is sharp and not without humour. That said, the emergence of a strong authorial voice at such moments can be somewhat disconcerting. Also, it can be just a little annoying when the author feels he has to introduce (usually within parentheses) information necessary for the reader and yet unknowable by the main point-of-view character at the time. This feels like either lazy writing, or a reluctance to trust the reader to pick up on more subtle methods of introducing, for example, the black sedan chair that shadows Fever during her initial walk through London.

There are also occasions when Philip Reeve just can't hold back on
Fever Crumb
's role as an explanatory prequel to his best-selling Mortal Engines quartet. This is most obviously the case with the creation of the Stalker called Shrike—at one point the author drops in a revelation of almost
deux ex machina
proportions: “He was going to live a long time, that Stalker ... until his battered armour was a palimpsest of stencilled insignia.” While undoubtedly giving the readers of the Mortal Engines books a warm glow, this overt flash forward is—for someone coming to
Fever Crumb
fresh—an unnecessary distraction.

Yet, for all that,
Fever Crumb
is a bold, brightly honed narrative that grabs and holds the attention from the start.

Copyright © 2009 Paul Cockburn

Reviewed by Peter Loftus

Ice Song
tells the story of Sorykah, an overqualified mining engineer working a menial and unchallenging post onboard the
Nimbus,
an ice-drilling submarine which plies the frozen seas around The Sigue harvesting a rare and much sought-after panacea known as ‘fossil water'. Returning from a tour of duty, Sorykah lands in Ostara, a rough and ready settlement of frozen shanties, populated by misfits and outcasts. Sorykah wants nothing more than to meet with her nursemaid and be reunited with her two young infants. When the nursemaid fails to show, our heroine realises something is wrong and is drawn into a quest to find her missing babes.

In the world of
Ice Song
, human DNA has degraded to the extent that normal humans live alongside mutants known as ‘somatics'. These are bizarre, deformed creatures, many of whom have developed animal characteristics and features (such as Meertham the walrus-man and Dunya the dog-faced girl). Sorykah and her offspring are ‘traders', suffering a rare type of mutation which results in them regularly changing genders without notice, choice or warning.

Hearing a rumour that her children have been abducted by Matuk (a notorious kidnapper with a penchant for medical experiments involving somatics), Sorykah sets out across the ice with a team of dogs, hell-bent not only on rescuing her little ones, but also on extracting revenge on their abductor.

It is here that
Ice Song
undergoes something of a metamorphosis. What began as a kind of science-fantasy transforms into something much closer to a folk or fairy tale. A villain dwelling in a castle at the heart of an ancient forest populated by mythological creatures, kidnapped babes oblivious to the peril they are in, human-like beasts and beast-like humans: the elements are all classic fare.

The beauty and universal appeal of such tales lies in their ability to bring the symbolic elements of the story to the fore. Birth, death, innocence, nature and other themes are all distilled into their essential forms so that they may be more readily explored.
Ice Song
, while having all the trappings of a folk or fairy tale, seems to miss out on this count. Whether because the symbolism is too deeply buried, too subtle to be readily uncovered, or because the symbolic potential of the story hasn't been fully exploited is difficult to say. One just feels that very little is happening on a sub-textual level.

There are issues with the gender changes too. Since these changes result in a loss of memory, Soryk and Sorykah seldom know what is going on, causing a frustrating loss of dramatic tension in the earlier stages of the novel as our hero/heroine try to figure out where they are and what they are supposed to be doing. As a vehicle for exploring gender differences between the sexes, the conceit behind Soryk and Sorykah has excellent potential. Unfortunately, Soryk is a somewhat effeminate male, less believable and not as developed as his female alter ego, and because of this the gender changing premise is not as satisfying and stimulating as it might have been.

Overall though,
Ice Song
is an accomplished debut from a promising writer. The Sigue, simultaneously alluring and deadly, makes an enticing setting, and is brought to life by some superb detailing. Kasai's prose is sensuous and affective. It is obvious that the author, a mother herself, identifies fervently with her heroine's predicament and resolve. Indeed, one of the great strengths of
Ice Song
is that the author's identification with her (female) protagonist is of such power and depth that it transfers readily to the reader. Seldom do we get to know a fictional character to the extent that we get to know Sorykah. Having said that, the maternal side of Sorykah's character is somewhat overstated and perhaps a little too detailed for some readers’ palates, a factor which may ultimately limit the appeal of
Ice Song
.

Copyright © 2009 Peter Loftus

Reviewed by Sandy Auden

Wahey, me hearties, are ye ready for a tale of filthy schemers and heroic derring-do? If you are, then Chris Wooding's entertaining pirate adventure about a crew of stragglers facing certain death could be just what you're looking for.