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Preconscious algorithms periodically threaten to bury authors beneath an avalanche of debased language reduced to gray goo. Such regurgitating formulae are capable of churning out words like factory-baked slices of fungal bread, devoid of understanding or communion.
— Sunward by William Alexander
Lately I’ve served as research assistant in a long-term study of Mercurial bugs.
— Sunward by William Alexander
oh yeah, I had that job once
It was too easy to drift into my own haphazard time zone of unscheduled naps instead.
— Sunward by William Alexander
hell yeah
There’s no such thing as an encrypted transmission.
— Sunward by William Alexander
that's … certainly a mechanic
that's … certainly a mechanic
Agatha Panza von Sparkles settled into Needle’s pilot seat for the very first time.
— Sunward by William Alexander
Edie is done with crime. Eight years behind bars changes a person—costs them too much …
Hammajang Luck was fun, a vault heist in space with strong themes of social justice and found family. There isn't a ton of gender discussion, but something like half the characters are just matter-of-factly trans. It wasn't super deep, but it was entertaining and engaging.
Tagging #SFFBookClub even though I'm extremely late to the party
Hammajang Luck was fun, a vault heist in space with strong themes of social justice and found family. There isn't a ton of gender discussion, but something like half the characters are just matter-of-factly trans. It wasn't super deep, but it was entertaining and engaging.
Tagging #SFFBookClub even though I'm extremely late to the party
Content warning the works of vermin review continued, full of spoilers
I feel like the ecdytoxin has to be an analogue for ai - it warps everything it touches into a grotesquerie of extra limbs and eyes and teeth; it has permeated the entire revivalist society so that the entire upper class is constantly drenched in its perfume, distorting their perceptions of reality; they don't quite know how to deal with someone who doesn't use / is immune to it; when something comes along that destroys it, everything they've built with it disintegrates into chaos.
The scenes where they're obtaining it by feeding artworks to the contriver worms feel almost too on the nose.
The Works of Vermin is delightfully weird, a writhing tapestry of characters and plotlines that twist around each other and double back as the author gradually reveals the design.
I didn't know what to expect after Leech, and this certainly doesn't have many superficial similarities, except maybe for a certain focus on the inhuman.
It is fantastical and deranged and byzantine and wonderful.
The Works of Vermin is delightfully weird, a writhing tapestry of characters and plotlines that twist around each other and double back as the author gradually reveals the design.
I didn't know what to expect after Leech, and this certainly doesn't have many superficial similarities, except maybe for a certain focus on the inhuman.
It is fantastical and deranged and byzantine and wonderful.
History has proven time and time again that theaters are made to burn.
Next time you rob God, don’t half-ass it.
He wants, desperately, to shout at her, to strike her, to tell her once again that working is the worst way to get any sort of money, but he only draws her close.
Is it worse to bite the hand that feeds you, or kiss the hand that beats you?
The hours crawl by, but at a startlingly fast crawl.
Same choice we all have, my dear. Same as every creature. Domestication, or extermination.
inside the mind of the billionaire class
Kid’s just at that stage. They go to sleep tame, wake up feral.
the struggle is real
