Lucius Shepard (1943–2014)

This book has sat, unread, on my shelf for probably twenty years, on the strength of Shepard's novel Life during Wartime. I finally worked my way around to it, and I'm sad to say that I was not overwhelmed. All the stories dated from the late 1980s or early- to mid-90s, and most show their age.

The (Nebula-winning) title story starts out with something of an Expanse-like vibe but was spoilt for me by the pov character and others purporting to be British but talking in appalling Mockney accents, and Shepard thinking that Manchester is in the Midlands. I also quickly began to stumble over Shepard's stream-of-consciousness 100-word sentences. As an occasional device, this could be excused; but not as a habit, especially when they appear in the internal narrative of a character who otherwise presents as an "ordinary bloke". There were also a lot of elements in this story which seemed to have been lifted wholesale from Peter Hyams' 1981 film Outland.

Two of the stories weren't remotely science fiction; one, Beast of the Heartland, a boxing story, might qualify as borderline fantasy, or fantastic realism. Interestingly, both of these stories first appeared in Playboy. Of the others, one (All the perfumes of Araby) is set in the aftermath of the first Gulf War, and although it refers to an early 21st century that never quite happened, it does reflect the current real-world political concerns of the Middle East in a recognisable way, including war in Syria (although Shepard's knowledge of the practice of Islam is a bit lacking). For me, this story and Human History were the stand-out stories of the collection. Human History relates a story of a marginal settlement in Arizona in the aftermath of a (historical) socio-environmental catastrophe. Shepard leaves the backstory open to speculation, which was probably the right thing to do even if I found it mildly unsatisfactory.

The Sun Spider seems to be about a pop philosopher/physicist who discovers life on the surface of the Sun, but is also about interpersonal relationships and revenge. Set on a space station in a close solar orbit, the story has a creepy and villainous administrator who runs the station as a personal fiefdom without anyone turning a hair; in any case, the station seems more like a posh hotel and the whole thing does not convince. And there is a nasty tale, A Little Night Music, which uses a science-fictional idea (a resurrection process for the recently-dead which has the side effect of making the resurrectees into strange jazz musicians) as a framing device for an urban tale of infidelity which turns into misogynistic violence.

Indeed, much of the writing seems to be predominantly masculine, and some modern readers will have difficulty with this. For me, two good stories out of seven doesn't make for a ringing endorsement.… (more)

If one can imagine Coppola's Apocalypse Now, dressed up in a sci-fi garb and with the level of insanity cranked up, that's the best way I can think of describing Life During Wartime. It is a(n almost) plotless, unpredictable, ethereal nightmare that nonetheless paces itself well (at least during its beginnings) and sucks you deep into the allure of its horror.

There's some really nice writing, and I think it was originally published under the label of "literary fiction"; which is interesting because I think the genre elements really swallow it as the book goes on, and in a way that even made me cringe a bit. I did like quite a lot about Life During Wartime - initially I was drawn to its trippy, war-time atmosphere - but I was less keen when more plot entered the scene and it almost began to feel like a sophisticated, adult X-Men. The more it drifted into its themes of psychological warfare the more disinterested I became, because I just didn't find the whole "war within a war" element compelling at all. I also thought the development of the romance was poor, especially as the main character just seems like a moody git who wants to screw anything that walks (the forced eroticism gets tedious). Funnily enough, by the end it almost seemed like a core theme of the book was "love" and that it was perhaps intended as some kind of romance novel in part. That didn't really work for me either.

Not a bad book, and possibly worth reading, but ultimately it felt a bit messy and unsatisfying. Joe Haldeman does much better with "military sci-fi meets romance" with his novel, The Forever War.… (more)

In 2007, Lucius Shepard (1943-2014) was guest of honor at Readercon, the science fiction convention that Lois and I have long attended and worked for. PS Publishing produced this signed "Special Readercon 2007 Edition" of his then-upcoming collection - same as the regular version except for the labelling and signature page.

To me, most Shepard stories follow the same pattern, closely following a man's point of view. The man is usually marginal in some way, and moves through a dark, uncertain landscape; weird events happen, often bringing a glimpse into the world's secret, terrible heart. Women are only present as companions or foils. I don't see misogyny here, just a recognition that he can't write women's interior experience. But in these nine stories, published 2002-2007, women seem to have more presence, and are more central to events, than in his earlier stories, or that's my impression. But the men still narrate.

In "Emerald Street Expansions", a man receives a sort of personality implant, and finds himself becoming the reincarnation of Francois Villon. The people around him have plans for him - especially the woman therapist who gave him the implant. Like many Shepard stories, this one doesn't really end. At the conclusion the protagonist is deep in his Villon role, perhaps doomed to reenact the poet's life and work.

"Limbo" gives us a petty criminal on the run from his former mob buddies. He's smarter than most killers, but not smart enough to avoid getting involved with the ghost of a woman, eventually joining her in a hell in which they perpetually must flee demonic tormentors. He thinks he may see a way out...

"Liar's House" is one of Shepard's Dragon Griaule stores, to be reviewed as part of his [The Dragon Griaule] collection someday.

"Dead Money" is a sequel to Shepard's excellent first novel Green Eyes, about a treatment that can turn the recently dead into zombies, sort of, with green-glowing eyes and extraordinary abilities. Those abilities can include reading the "tells" of poker players with amazing clarity. A small-time criminal, working for an erratic crime lord, is tasked with minding such a zombie, plus the zombie's beautiful nurse. He begins to suspect that the three of them will be eliminated after a big poker game.

In "Dinner at Baldassaro's" we gradually realize that the protagonist and his fellow diners are unaging vampires, controlling the mere humans around them and plotting how to continue their secret rule of Earth.

In "Abimagique", our man meets a woman of that name. She foresees the end of the world, and is performing weird magical rituals aimed at forestalling that end. Most of her recent lovers may have been put in wheelchairs by her lovemaking, so he'd be well advised to stay away. Of course he doesn't.

An old man in a bar recounts his long-ago meeting with "The Lepidopterist", who worked with some peculiar butterflies, and the far more peculiar products of the cocoons they spun (yes, butterflies spinning cocoons - very peculiar butterflies).

"Dagger Key" is original to this volume, appearing only here and in The Best of Lucius Shepard, Vol. 2 as i write. Fredo Galvez lives in poverty on a Caribean island. He is descended from the pirate Ann Bonny, and haunted by her ghost. Outsiders come, seeking Bonny's treasure. Is this an opportunity for him and his family? Pirate Annie was violent in life, and is still so in death.

The story that might be most congenial to a newcomer to Shepard is "Stars Seen Through Stone". Years ago, a car breakdown left Vernon and Andrea in the dying town of Black William, Pennsylvania. They made a life there, together and, later, apart. Now, eerie lights are occasionally visible, seen somehow through the stone of the town courthouse, lights that seem to be far away and approaching with great speed. Meanwhile, an epidemic of creativity breaks out among the townspeople; new solutions to issues in business and art. Vernon, a small-time music producer, finds himself coaching the most talented young musician he's ever managed - if also the most sleazy and personally repellent. This story supplies one of Shepard's rare endings that are other than tragic or fearful.

Shepard's darkness is not something I want all the time, but I enjoyed this visit to his late-career writing.… (more)