Gollancz, 2018, 324 p, plus ii p Acknowledgements.

That I have read Newman’s Planetfall sequence in the wrong order (3,4,2,1 to be precise) doesn’t really matter that much as they can all be read as stand alone titles. Here, we are in the years after an expedition to another planet under the guidance of a woman called The Pathfinder in search of God. On landing the expedition’s members found what is now called God’s city. This is an “organic citadel” like a “huge forest of baobab trees tangled round one another,” and, when hot, grows tendrils to manage the heat.

The story is narrated by expedition member Renata Ghali (Ren,) the settlement’s 3D printer engineer, whose later revelation to be a hoarder whose home pod is piled with rubbish stolen from the settlement’s recycling machine, the Masher, is an indication of possible unreliability. She is troubled by fellow expedition member Cillian Mackenzie (Mack,) whose resolve held the community together after the Pathfinder did not return from a foray inside God’s City, saying she was “communing with the creator,” and telling them all to await her return. What has evolved in the colony in the years since is in effect a cult.

Some time after The Pathfinder’s disappearance, other members of the original expedition were lost elsewhere on the planet. Plot kicks in when a lone outsider called Lee Sung-Soo, a survivor of those lost colonists, who is also The Pathfinder’s grandson, turns up at the city.

Ren’s obligations to Mack take her inside God’s city, a strange unsettling place where perspectives shift and passageways can suddenly change orientation. Her explorations lead her to wonder whether the colonists are the first or if there have been previous visitors to the planet; visitors who could only have been alien.

As things unfold we discover what actually happened to The Pathfinder inside God’s city, the revelation of which to the colony has ramifications for Ren, Mack and the settlement as whole.

Newman’s writing is not in question. She is particularly good on Ren’s mental disintegration.

The integration of religious elements with an SF setting is a little awkward though.

Pedant’s corner:- Printed in USian, bacteria (the word is treated as if it’s singular – but that would be bacterium,) outside of (x 2: just ‘outside’; no ‘of’,) “none of them satisfy me” (none of them satisfies me,) “in the opposite direction of God’s city” (it’s ‘opposite direction to’ not ‘opposite direction of’.) “None of them were looking at me” (None of them was looking at me.) “None of them are good” (None of them is good.) “None of them are paying attention” (None of them is paying attention,) “neither of them say anything” (neither of them says anything.) “None of them are listening” (None of them is listening,) “our species’ capacity” (species here is singular; so ‘the capacity of our species would be better.) “None of them are familiar” (None of them is familiar.)

Luna Press, 2025, 176 p including Author’s note on Finding Inspiration in Scottish Folklore. Reviewed for ParSec 14.

This is a collection of one novella and 22 short stories – some very short; the title story is barely three pages long, a couple are only two, with the longest, The Frittening, just twelve – all taking inspiration from Scotland’s folklore, superstitions, or landscape.

The short pieces are loosely bunched under headings for the four seasons with each section’s stories prefaced with a wood- (or lino-)cut engraving of one of the Moon’s principal phases and a scene illustrative of a story within it. A ‘Bonus Section’ at the end outlines those particular tales and legends which sparked Croal’s imagination.

An individual story here can contain relatively familiar apparitions or hauntings – selkies, kelpies, hagstones, seer stones, magpies, omens and shape shifting, Will-o’-the-Wisp, the Otherworld, Changelings – but others like the Sluagh, the Frittening or the Boneless, the Cat-Sith, the Ghillie-Dhugh, Baobhan Sith and the Fiddlers of Tomnahurich Hill, the Cailleach, the Nuckelavee, the Marool, the Ceasg, Bee-telling, the Sea-Mither, Each Uisge, the Wulver, the Bride and Angus, may be less so. Some are set in depopulated post-disaster worlds and border on Science Fiction; others touch on gothic, weird horror, dark fantasy, and solarpunk. Many draw stimulus from nature, climate, and the environment, with feminist and eco themes prominent. Croal’s Author’s Note informs us three of her tales do not have a specific derivation but are original to her.

Hence, among others, we have omens in the sky, tappings on windows, a strange puddle emerging on a doorstep, pebbles appearing in a nest in the night, a will-o’-the-wisp manifesting more strongly each day, a fiddler finding his muse in a painting whose scene gradually changes, the green man as a malevolent influence, the thoughts of the last surviving whale as it roams the deserted seas. Except for a common thread of the sea there is little beyond the Gaelic names of the various phantasms to mark these stories out as specifically Scottish.

The novella, Daughter of Fire and Water, with its intermingling of gods/goddesses and mortals in fact reads more like a Greek, or perhaps Norse, myth – except for the prince in it being named Angus.

Taken individually the stories here are perfectly fine but the cumulative effect of Croal’s general style tends to the dry. She has a fondness for italicized paragraphs, especially in throat-clearing beginnings, and there is the occasional odd choice of verb, which can be jarring. There tends to be a kind of distance between the tale and the reader and the stories are too often told rather than shown while some are not really given enough room to breathe fully. There is not much emotion evoked in these tales but then stories of weird creatures and the whole apparatus of fairy tale have always been admonitory in intent.

This is a collection to be sipped rather than quaffed. (Not really an option available to a reviewer.)

Curiously, a few lines on Content Notes and Warnings come dead last in the book though a signal to them does lie on the publishing information page. Surely if such warnings are needed they ought to be more prominently placed?

The following did not appear in the published review.

Pedant’s corner:- focussing (focusing,) maw (more than once. A maw is not a mouth,) several USianisms (cookies, snuck, dove [for dive,] inside of, etc,) sunk (several times; sank.) “The only muscle the woman moved was her mouth” (a mouth is not a muscle,) razor—sharp (razor-sharp,) sung (x 2, sang.) “She lay the Seer’s map on the table” (She laid the Seer’s map on the table.) “She was his only companion, his confidant” (she; therefore ‘confidante’,) “Then she said with sharp cruelty, ‘no. Not if you…’” (she said with sharp cruelty, ‘No. Not if you…’,) “Everyone knelt and lay the offerings at her feet” (and laid the offerings,) “all that kept me company were layers of clouds” (all that kept me company was ….) “If I wanted so bad not to be alone” (If I wanted so badly not to be alone,) “and lay it over my chest as a pendant” (and laid it over my chest,) “and lay her in blankets” (and laid her in.) “When the sea witch, turned away and disappeared” (doesn’t need the comma, which in fact detracts from the sense,)  “that I’d wove so carefully” (woven,) “mouth scrunched up into an eclipse” (only makes sense if ‘ellipse’ was meant,) a new paragraph that was not indented, a missing full stop, “span” (spun,) “as if expecting me turn into” (to turn into.) “‘Your association with them isn’t exactly customary’” (sense expects, ‘Your association with them isn’t exactly exemplary’,) sat (seated; or; sitting.) “The fall made the landscape blur, and then a screech” (needs clarification,) “there were no sign of burns or marks” (there was no sign.) “then he swept out the room” (as written this means he cleaned the room with a brush; what was intended was ‘he swept out of the room’,) “the hot water stung into my legs” (the hot water stung my legs,) focussed (focused, annoyingly used two pages earlier.) “They looked between one another” (looked at one another,) galivanted (gallivanted.) “Much of these stories are inspired by” (Many of these stories are.) “I became fascinated in the dark, strange, and rich folklore” (became fascinated by,) “rife with unexplained phenomenon” phenomena makes more sense.) “Hagstones are stones with natural holes bored in centre are thought to be,” (the holes can’t have been bored; plus the sentence needs an ‘and’ before ‘are thought’.)

ParSec 15 is indeed live and I now have my copy.

I found it does contain my reviews of City of All Seasons by Oliver K Langmead and Aliya Whiteley along with The History of the World by Simon Morden but not that of Project Hanuman by Stewart Hotston.

I have four other reviews there though:-

The Measurement Problem by David Whitmarsh,

Halcyon Years by Alastair Reynolds,

Exiles by Mason Coile,

plus Solstice by Ruth Aylett and Greg Michaelson.

NewCon Press, 2025, 115 p. Reviewed for ParSec 14.

This was published as a novella but reads more like an assemblage of short stories with characters which cross over from one to the next, though outwith their own tale, usually only in brief appearances. Its background premise – something strange (but unspecified) has happened and people have been advised to remain indoors – may be a literary response to Covid. The setting is a small village in Scotland – locals call it a clachan but incomers have used the description hamlet (which I note is actually a particularly English designation) for so long that it has become more common. The village ‘spinsters,’ however, still frown upon it. Apart from the first, very short, chapter which introduces the strange event, each section is given over to the experiences of different characters, Beth, Polly, Helen, Eve, Robyn and Jeanie, with the novella ending with a sort of epilogue from the point of view someone called the Spaceman.

The stories’ time scales are not always immediately apparent as some chapters start before the strange event or more or less ignore it happening. However, there’s enough oddness going on even without it.

Responding to a voice calling to her, Beth, who has inherited her home from her mother and not improved it in any way, instead letting it run to squalor, manages to move through the pipes in her plumbing, whether by her shrinking or the pipes expanding is moot. Eventually she is drawn down to an underground chamber to chat with the spinsters about the end of the world. The chapters which follow may represent different ways in which that end happens.

Thanks to the green-suited spaceman who appears at her window one night, schoolgirl Polly travels the universe and becomes both a witch and a princess.

Helen begins to produce videos which attract internet followers but increasingly show her lack of control of her life.

To escape the locked down city Eve has come to the cottage she rents out to Matthew (known locally as the Pest.) Not a good choice.

At Helen’s request Robyn builds a doll’s house as an exact replica of Helen’s home but realizes it also needs a doll’s house inside it and then another inside that and so on down.

Jeanie begins to act strangely and eventually locks herself away from everyone. She is however revealed to be a figment, a skin the narrator wore to make her life more amenable. The implication is that all the viewpoint characters are such skins. (But this is the essence of fiction. The reader temporarily becomes – or at least empathises with – a book’s characters.)

The Spaceman is from another world.

The Hamlet has aspects of a fairy tale (but there do not seem to be any happy ever afters, except perhaps for Polly,) has some of the heightened sensibility of magic realism (with a faint echo of John Burnside’s Glister,) moments of horror, and makes a foray into Science Fiction. Whether the disparate elements necessarily cohere into a unified whole is a matter for the individual reader. Corrance can write though.

The following did not appear in the published review.

Pedant’s corner:- “The McIvor’s lived in” (the McIvors lived in,) sat (x 2, sitting, or, seated,) “Mums washing machine” (Mum’s,) “paper mâché” (paper mache:  if its ‘mâché’ then it’s papier mâché,) “it sloped passed me” (past me,) airplane (aeroplane,) “the High-lands” (the Highlands,) curb (kerb.) “‘So where did you learn to cook?’ She asked.” (‘So where did you learn to cook?’ she asked,) “when they played drafts” (draughts,) dollhouse (doll’s house,) “most Saturday’s” (most Saturdays,) “and come pick me up” (come to pick me up,) miniscule (minuscule,) “the little girls’ eyes” (it was only one girl; ‘little girl’s eyes’.)

Or at least it ought to be.

The publication date was yesterday.

I’ve not accessed my copy yet but this one should contain my reviews of:-

City of All Seasons by Oliver K Langmead and Aliya Whiteley

The History of the World by Simon Morden

Project Hanuman by Stewart Hotston

Those reviews will appear here in due course.

Titan, 2019, 363 p, including 5 p Author’s Foreword and 1 p Acknowledgements.

“Time doesn’t give a damn about the laws of physics. It does what it wants.”

So goes a line in one of the stories in this book, which is made up of a series of connected narratives of varied length, many featuring characters with the same name but whose circumstances are subtly different. Time here – place too sometimes – is slippy. There is a contingency to the narratives, some in third person, others in first, somewhat (though not fully) reminiscent of the œuvre of Allan’s late partner Christopher Priest. Frequently, the characters themselves are not entirely sure of what is going on.

In the first tale, The Hurricane, there is a sense of distance to the telling, an opacity, which I have noticed in Allan’s work before. By the time I reached the last two, Darkroom and Ten Days (both published here under the heading out-takes) either I had got used to it or that opacity had disappeared.

The settings often have the feel of our universe but others quite clearly are not, or not yet anyway.

At least one is set in the aftermath of an unspecified war (possibly World War Two as Hitler gets a mention – though not in a war context – yet the social arrangements feel earlier.) This is (these are?) an England like, yet not identical to, our historical one. One future/present (temporal location in these stories is fluid) is an authoritarian one – under the Billings Government.

Much of the focus is on timepieces and play is made of the fact that a watch, or a clock, is a time machine of sorts. The tourbillon regulator, which stabilises a timepiece’s mechanism, counteracting the effect of gravity, making a watch or clock more accurate. Its inventor, Louis Breguet is here said to have discovered a way of making time stand still.

“The Silver Wind,” a military project to utilise this is “a quantum time-stabiliser that certain military scientists had subverted to their own purposes.” Ghosts are the living products of unsuccessful experiments with a TimeStasis, conducted from a time stream parallel with ours, manifestations of seepage between universes.

With this technology the possibility of time-bridges is asserted, but such time travel is subject to rules. “Time is an amorphous mass, … a ragbag of history. Time Stasis might give you access to what you think of as the past, but it wouldn’t be the past that you remember. The pivotal events in history still occur, even if the cause and effect are subtly different.” Hence the slippage between the stories, the air of unfamiliar familiarity. In several of them appears what at first seems a slightly sinister figure, the Circus Man, parading up and down a beach, but who in one tale administers aid to Martin Newland, one of the main recurring characters. The Circus Man is revealed elsewhere (in another timestream?) to be an accomplished watchmaker called Owen Andrews.

Don’t expect unequivocal rationales when reading any of the stories in The Silver Wind. This is not straightforward Science Fiction, but an examination of contingency.

Pedant’s corner:-  “members of parliament” (Members of Parliament,) “rarer than the both of them put together” (no need for that ‘the’; ‘rarer than both of them put together’,) unfocussed (unfocused,) “it was beginning to grow dusk” (an odd construction; ‘it was beginning to grow dark’ is fine but usually the appropriate phrase would be something like ‘dusk was drawing in’,) “I had spent a half an hour at least talking to….” (no need for that ‘a’; ‘I had spent half an hour at least talking to…’, or ‘I had spent at least half an hour talking…’) “the engine-stoker” (this was of a worker on the footplate of a steam locomotive. He – they were always male back in the day – was called a fireman,) focussing (focusing.)

34 Scottish books this year, 17 by men, 17 by women. Five were fantasy or SF, one was non-fiction.

(For my reviews type the book title into my search box.)

A Darker Domain by Val McDermid

Greenmantle by John Buchan

Queen Macbeth by Val McDermid

Hex by Jenni Fagan

The Wind That Shakes the Barley by James Barke

The Skeleton Road by Val McDermid

Guy Mannering by Walter Scott

Olivia by O Douglas

Poor Angus by Robin Jenkins

Pawn in Frankincense by Dorothy Dunnett

Born Leader by J T McIntosh

Nothing Left to Fear From Hell by Alan Warner

The Hamlet by Joanna Corrance

Poor Tom by Edwin Muir

Rizzio by Denise Mina

Dark Crescent by Lyndsey Croal

The Hayburn Family by Guy McCrone

The Takeover by Muriel Spark

Columba’s Bones by David Greig

The Keelie Hawk by Kathleen Jamie

The Song in the Green Thorn Tree by James Barke

Now She Is Witch by Kirsty Logan

Black Sparta by Naomi Mitchison

Life for a Life by T F Muir

Out of Bounds by Val McDermid

Dead Catch by T F Muir

Some Kind of Grace by Robin Jenkins

The Ringed Castle by Dorothy Dunnett

The Green Isle of the Great Deep by Neil M Gunn

To See Ourselves by Alistair Moffat

The Setons by O Douglas

Auld Licht Idylls by J M Barrie

Gliff by Ali Smith

The Wonder of All the Gay World by James Barke  (review still to appear here.)

Luna Press, 2025, 187 p. Reviewed for ParSec 14.

At the start of this novella Elif is the sole inhabitant of the apparently desert planet Maoira-I. At twelve years old she has hitherto known only the companionship of the AI, VAS-H, her Vital Auxiliary Support: H-unit, and her knowledge of other humans is derived solely from the films and shows available to her on screen.

Contact from Commander Isabel Aremu of the Interplanetary Mission, based on Polaris, who addresses Elif as Warden, comes to her out of the blue, as does the task she is assigned of growing, or attempting to grow, plants to see if Maoira-I might be a suitable future home for humanity. The Mission is on an indefinite space flight fleeing something unspecified back on Earth. VAS-H retrieves the seeds Elif will need, seeds she had not known were there, from the base’s storage freezer.

Part One centres on Elif via both a third person narrative tightly focused on her unfolding experiences and the log entries VAS-H asks her to compile. While these are not the reflections of an unreliable narrator they are those of one without knowledge of the full picture. Helping to fill in those gaps for the reader there are also two italicised sections dealing mainly with the consequences for Commander Aremu on Polaris of the Mission having to admit that Elif exists and its failures regarding her. This leads to Aremu’s replacement as contact by the much less sympathetic Lieutenant, later Commander, Julian Bishop.

In the meantime Elif uncovers a buried Transporter vehicle on the surface and learns to drive it while Maoira-I’s long-term climatic variations begin to manifest themselves.

Part Two makes a step change. Mission operative Rokeya Khan, whose grandfather Latif was on the original team to land on Maoira-I, has set off on her own to get to the planet and find out what happened. Her arrival shocks Elif but they learn to work together.

Rokeya’s presence is the catalyst for the discovery of what became of the original crew, one of whom, naturally, but against all protocol, must have been pregnant.

It also crystallises Elif’s feelings towards the rest of humanity and towards the only home she has ever known.

There are some caveats to this. The premise does stretch credibility a bit. Could an infant human really thrive under only the influence of an AI and old videos? Could she retain sanity even? Could the original expedition genuinely have been forgotten by the Mission for twelve years?

But Reza has written this well. She captures Elif’s initial ingenuousness and growing confidence. The claustrophobic atmosphere of an isolated environment comes across, as does the slightly sinister sway of an AI companion.

This is an impressive long form debut.

The following did not appear in the published review.

Pedant’s corner:-  shrunk (x3, shrank,) CO2 (several times. It’s CO₂,) “wherever the fleet of ships were” (wherever the fleet … was,) fit (fitted,) “than several millions” (than several million,) “about to reach a crescendo” (you don’t reach a crescendo, you reach its end,) sunk (sank.) “Rokeya’s opened her mouth in shock” (Rokeya opened her mouth.)

I recently sent off to Parsec magazine my review of Solstice by Ruth Aylett and Greg Michaelson, a book which I picked up* at the first Pictcon in Perth a month or so ago. A very successful first con it has to be said. Pictcon focuses on the Scottish SF and fantasy scene.

Editor Ian Whates has chosen to run it so that review will not appear here for a while.

Meanwhile he has sent me Reality Rift by Fred Gambino, a follow-up to that author’s first novel Dark Shepherd.

*By picked up I mean “blagged with the promise of a review on the blog and the chance of ParSec running it.”

Pyr, 2008, 453 p.

A catastrophe in a spaceship traversing a Kardashev tunnel, a kind of wormhole, leads to the discovery of a wrong kind of neutrino – wrong angular momentum, wrong spin state, “‘Reversed actually,’” – evidence of another dimension, a parallel universe.

Minerva Company, which operates the tunnels, now realises that its ostracised former employee, Titus Quinn, who had turned up a few weeks later and light years away from the disaster which destroyed his ship – but with memories of being in a parallel universe – might have been telling the truth.

Eager to preserve the Company’s business (failures in transit not being good for that) they persuade him to return to negotiate on their behalf to secure ways to make interstellar travel easier; shortcuts, basically.

Quinn has his own reasons to return; both his wife, Johanna, and daughter, Sydney, had been transported with him but they became separated and remained stranded. His Jacobson’s organ is altered to enhance his sense of smell before he undergoes the procedure. This is a curious detail of the story but not much is actually made of this enhancement latterly.

The narrative then takes a step change as he ventures once more into the Entire, a vast universe lacking stars, with many different habitats but all seemingly in the one plane, lit by the sky-bright, a churning river of light, constantly changing, yet always the same, ruled by enigmatic creatures known as Tarig, one of whom he had assaulted in his previous sojourn. For the Entire’s power sources we are told plasma cells harvest photons from the bright. “The Tarig had remade photosynthesis in inorganic form. It made Earth’s fusion technologies seem crass by comparison.”

Kenyon seems to have modelled the Entire – at least the parts where Quinn journeys – on China. The clothes, names, and some of the inhabitants’ customs at any rate, fit that template.

Several chapters are preceded by extracts from Entire doctrine, The Radiant Way. Its first tenet is that knowledge of the Entire must be kept from the non-Entire. Quinn faces an uphill struggle on that count, then, as do those who knowingly help him. Much of the book is taken up with Quinn’s travels, face altered and using the name Dai Shen, to the power centre. Within the Entire, Quinn’s – our – universe is known as the Rose. It is peopled by various different sentient beings, some of them supposedly modelled by the Tarig on creatures from the Rose. The Chalin seem to be all but indistinguishable from humans.

Several chapters deal with Sydney’s continued existence in the Entire. She has been dispatched to a region inhabited by horse-like sentients called the Inyx, telepathic animals who need riders but insist they be blinded, a fate Sydney has suffered. She is able to ‘see’ though, through the mind link with her mount. Her personality is beginning to alter the Inyx’s relationships with their riders and potentially that with the Tarig.

There are hints that Johanna, too, may have survived.

Though it is not really like it at all the whole thing reminded me of Mary Doria Russell’s The Sparrow. Maybe it was just that First Contact via a sole human thing.

Nothing is resolved at the end, of course. How could it be? There are three instalments of Kenyon’s saga to go.

Pedant’s corner:- Written in USian, “orthopositroniums’ missing energy” (orthopositronium’s?) “intended accomplish” (intended to accomplish,) aerie (USianism for eyrie,) garroted, garrote, garroting (several times, garotted, garotte, garotting) a capital letter on the word following a colon (several times,) “in deeply accent English” (deeply accented.) “A ochre-colored bird” (An ochre-colored [but preferably ochre-coloured,]) “sent simulacra, automatons” (automata. And why use the Latin plural of simulacrum but not the Greek one of automaton?)  “murmured at Yulin side” (at Yulin’s side,) a capital letter following a comma when a question was embedded in a piece of direct speech; it needs internal quotation marks instead,) “they saw what one of the cameras had captured Quinn from a low angle” (they saw that one of the cameras … ,) “like an aurora borealis made of knives” (there’s no need for the borealis here; ‘like an aurora made of knives’ would be fine,) “a contingent of Tarig were swarming” (a contingent of Tarig was swarming,) “‘tell us the rest it’” (tell us the rest of it.)