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    Aurealis #126
    Aurealis #126
    Aurealis #126
    Ebook218 pages1 hour

    Aurealis #126

    By Dirk Strasser (Editor)

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    About this ebook

    Aurealis rounds out another year of strong stories with the November issue #126. Dirk Strasser revisits the Genre Effect study in his editorial and poses his own Game of Thrones Effect theory to explain the results. This issue features ‘Marked for Life’, J.R. Schuyler’s powerful tale of blood magic, snowbeasts and transformation, Stephen Higgin’s quirky and enigmatic ‘Cradle’, and the dark science fiction of Eric Del Carlo’s gender and identity exploration story ‘Flesh of the Other’. Kristina Grifantini explores what's next for the 'Weird West', Lachlan Walter points out why retrofuturism never goes out of fashion, while Gillian Polack tells us to close this book if we're are under eighteen years old. Our suite of reviews includes Turn Left at Venus by Inez Baranay, Shatter City (Impostors #2) by Scott Westerfeld, The Secret of Cold Hill by Peter James, Maternal Instinct by Rebecca Bowyer Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman. Plus this last issue for the year finishes with our reviewers’ picks of the best speculative fiction in 2019.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherChimaera Publications
    Release dateNov 8, 2019
    ISBN9781922031907
    Aurealis #126
    Author

    Dirk Strasser (Editor)

    Dirk Strasser has written over 30 books for major publishers in Australia and has been editing magazines and anthologies since 1990. He won a Ditmar for Best Professional Achievement and has been short-listed for the Aurealis and Ditmar Awards a number of times. His fantasy novels – including Zenith and Equinox – were originally published by Pan Macmillan in Australia and Heyne Verlag in Germany. His children’s horror/fantasy novel, Graffiti, was published by Scholastic. His short fiction has been translated into a number of languages, and his most recent publications are “The Jesus Particle” in Cosmos magazine, “Stories of the Sand” in Realms of Fantasy and “The Vigilant” in Fantasy magazine. He founded the Aurealis Awards and has co-published Aurealis magazine for over 20 years.

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      Book preview

      Aurealis #126 - Dirk Strasser (Editor)

      AUREALIS #126

      Edited by Dirk Strasser

      Published by Chimaera Publications at Smashwords

      Copyright of this compilation Chimaera Publications 2019

      Copyright on each story remains with the contributor

      EPUB version ISBN 978-1-922031-90-7

      ISSN 2200-307X (electronic)

      CHIMAERA PUBLICATIONS

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors, editors and artists.

      Hard copy back issues of Aurealis can be obtained from the Aurealis website: www.aurealis.com.au

      Contents

      From the Cloud—Dirk Strasser

      Marked for Life—J R Schuyler

      Cradle—Stephen Higgins

      Flesh of the Other—Eric Del Carlo

      ‘If you are under eighteen years old, close this book.’ – Henrietta Dugdale, the Suffrage and Science Fiction—Gillian Polack

      Why Retrofuturism Never Goes Out of Fashion—Lachlan Walter

      What’s Next for the ‘Weird West’—K C Grifant

      Reviews

      Next Issue

      Credits

      From the Cloud

      Dirk Strasser

      Last year in my Aurealis #114 editorial, I discussed a research project called the Genre Effect study which was undertaken by Chris Gavaler, Associate Professor of English, and Dan Johnson, Associate Professor of Cognitive and Behavioral Science from Washington and Lee University. It involved around 150 participants who were given a text of 1000 words to read. Half were given a ‘literary’ version of the text and the other a ‘science fiction’ version. The texts were identical except in the literary version, the main character enters a diner while in the science fiction version, he enters a galley in a space station inhabited by aliens and androids as well as humans. The only differences between the two were setting-related. For example, the literary version used the word ‘door’ and the science fiction version used the word ‘airlock.’

      The professors concluded that ‘the science fiction setting triggered poorer overall reading’, apparently predisposing ‘readers to a less effortful and comprehending mode of reading—or what we might term non-literary reading’.

      The results of the study were categorised in a number of media outlets as ‘reading science fiction makes you stupid’. My own take on the results was that the study exposed a self-fulfilling bias among literary readers against science fiction, demonstrating that science fiction is still unfairly viewed in academia.

      Chris Gavaler and Dan Johnson have now completed a follow-up study that revisits the Genre Effect. This time they wanted to reduce the variables involved. In the new study there were 204 participants who were given one of two stories to read with the only difference between the two versions being one word.

      The opening sentence of the literary version was ‘My daughter is standing behind the bar, polishing a wine glass against a white cloth’.

      The opening sentence of the science fiction version was ‘My robot is standing behind the bar, polishing a wine glass against a white cloth’.

      So, this time the readers weren’t given constant reminders throughout about the fact that they were reading science fiction.

      Interestingly, this second study didn’t trigger poor overall reading in those reading the science fiction version. The readers of both versions had identical comprehension scores. Gavaler reported, ‘Readers basically ignored that intro and engaged actively with the text itself anyway’. He concluded that ‘this difference between studies is presumably a result of differences between our two science-fiction texts.’ Apparently, the first study SF story was ‘non-literary sci-fi’ while the second was ‘literary sci-fi’. He finished by saying, ‘I’m hopeful that it will once-and-for-all give definitive evidence that literary fiction and genre fiction, specifically science fiction, are not separate categories’.

      Gavaler’s final conclusion is something most of us involved in SF would say is obvious: there is a continuum of literary quality in science fiction (and other genres for that matter). I would go further than Gavaler, though, and point out that it’s also only stating the obvious to say there’s equally a continuum of literary quality in works that are categorised as ‘literary’.

      So, what have the professors actually revealed with the differing results from their two studies? I’d again argue that what they’ve actually shown is that anti-science fiction bias is still deeply embedded in literary academia. There was just too much science fiction in the first study story, while in the second study story there was so little science fiction that the bias was diluted.

      I call what happened in the second study the Game of Thrones Effect. The name suggests the effect applies to fantasy rather than science fiction, but it’s essentially the same argument for both. Game of Thrones became a mainstream hit, pulling in even people who had been vehemently anti-fantasy, because the fantasy elements were so minor at first that it could be viewed as a historical drama. And by the time the fantasy elements increased, everyone was already hooked by the story.

      All that happened in the second Genre Effect study was that some literary-focused students momentarily shed their anti-science fiction bias because there was almost nothing in the story triggering it.

      All the best from the cloud until next year!

      Dirk Strasser

      www.dirkstrasser.com/

      Back to Contents

      Marked for Life

      J R Schuyler

      The first blow comes as a shock—a sharp jolt against my cheekbone that sends songs of war vibrating through my skull. Blood bubbles to the surface and paints cold, crooked lines down my face. Excited murmurs burble through the crowd of villagers. Their tattoos create a blurry mosaic against the cave wall, their eyes aglow with residual magic, but I can’t identify them by name from this distance. My parents will be amongst them, standing proud. My grandparents, too. Uncles, aunts, siblings, cousins, former playmates from noble families… maybe even Kiana. My eyes strain to find her, my one true ally within Dreirre’s walls, but there’s no sign of her bright orange servant’s garb in the sea of brown cloaks. Perhaps that’s for the best. She wouldn’t want to see me like this.

      Calder lifts the bird-bone chisel, its razor-sharp tip scarlet with blood. ‘Such bone structure. The angles—no, that’ll never do. I’ll have to—but can I? Let’s see here.’

      The blows come faster now, one after another with a mechanical precision that curls my toes. The Elder’s rheumy eyes screw up in concentration, the rest of his expression slack with the indifference of a man who has been performing his craft for years. For every agonising line he etches into my face, a matching line of frost-blue light appears on his. It projects an ethereal stencil onto my skin, showing him where to cut next—how to recreate the tattoo awarded to Dreirre’s elite when they come of age.

      Once activated, the tattoo will help to ward off the ever-increasing snowbeast attacks. More than that, though, the tattoo is a symbol of belonging. A promise that I will always have a home within these walls and need not fear being sacrificed for blood magic like the unmarked villagers. Like the unmarked villager whose corpse is sprawled at my feet.

      I’ve been trying not to think about her since I entered the room, but morbid curiosity gets the better of me, and my gaze drifts to the floor. The scabbed length of her neck is tilted at an awkward angle, a pool of bright crimson spreading out beneath her. At least it was a quick and merciful end—far better than letting her succumb to the necrotic disease ravaging her system. A thin silver thread connects us, and I can feel the tingling remnants of her life force seeping into me, filling my cuts with an ephemeral unguent that soothes and heals and imbues my new skin with protective energy.

      Before I know it, Calder completes the final incision. He steps back, his whole face glowing. The crowd hums and roars their approval. A subtle ache bleeds through the numbness of my jaw, but I pay it no heed. I am no longer a boy to sit by the fire and do as he is told, but a man in my own right.

      ‘The spell is complete,’ Calder declares. ‘We welcome you into our ranks, Lukas Sorenson.’

      I sit up straighter, swallowing the dryness in my throat. ‘Thank you, Cherished Elder.’

      The wizened man bows and shuffles away, allowing the crowd to close in on me. Someone thrusts a mug of foamy ale into my hands, and I take a tentative sip, grimacing at the bitter taste. The villagers burst into a rousing song of birth and death and the seasons in between—of spring and autumn and the dreadful cold that stalks our land and seizes everything except our will to stay alive. Their undulating harmonies echo off the walls, drowning me in a beautiful ocean of sound, but all I can think about is the woman on the floor.

      * * *

      She isn’t the first victim of blood magic I’ve seen. That dubious honour goes to one of my childhood friends.

      When I was seven winters old, the Elders summoned all the noble families into the Great Hall to demonstrate a new spell they’d devised for the Four-Day Hunt. Young as I was, I couldn’t contain my shrieks of delight as their colourful sparks rained down around me. No one commented on my exuberance then, but later, my father cuffed me over the head and sent me to bed without dinner.

      ‘You were told to stay silent,’ he said, his dark eyes seething with rage. ‘Don’t you dare embarrass me like that again.’

      A terrible emptiness kept me awake late into the night. As soon as my peers fell asleep, I tiptoed to the kitchens, praying my growling stomach wouldn’t give me away.

      That’s where I first met Kiana.

      Knotted curtains

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