In this ongoing series, we ask SF/F authors to describe a specialty in their lives that has nothing (or very little) to do with writing. Join us as we discover what draws authors to their various hobbies, how they fit into their daily lives, and how and they inform the author’s literary identity!

Soc Mart, 1989, start of my third year at uni. Myself and a mate were having a wander… and we saw three long-haired characters all dressed up in armor and cloaks, and a table full of weapons. “We’re VaDaBaS,” they said, “the Viking and Dark Age Banqueting Society.” And the rest is history.

We’d found ourselves an outlet, a tribe, and a gang of lifelong friends. “Vike” meetings were held on Tuesday evenings, battle practices on Sundays, and we spent every summer weekend running around English Heritage sites with an ever-changing assortment of kit and steel cutlery. There were banquets, with much mead and foolishness, and there were battles, with more than a share of mud, steel, and swearing. The fighting was fierce and the bruises were commonplace—and nobody whinged when they got them (usually, they were offered up as badges round the night’s campfire). We made friends all across the UK, people with like-minded interests and senses of humor, people we could fight with, drink with and sing with, and look forward to seeing again for the next meeting.

It was an idyll, a fantasy bought to life, and it’s something I still miss.

In the very early days, I had trouble leaning to fight. I would miss parries constantly, end up with both thighs bruised to the hip and get overwhelmingly frustrated with the whole thing. We wore basic safety equipment—Viking/Saxon helmets and gauntlets—but battle practices weren’t “graded,” there were no half-measures, no “going softly” and no “middle ground.” If you stood up to fight, you were expected to hold your own, and to accept the fact that bruises were going to happen—and gender was of absolutely no relevance. It took gritted teeth sometimes, but I stuck with it, trying different weapons combinations—quarterstaff, sword and shield, spear—until I found my footing and my confidence. Lots of shouting helped. No, really.

During practices, we trained as individuals, one-on-one, learning how various weapon selections combined to take down an opponent. An axe is heavy and vicious, and great for hooking shields, but it’s unwieldy and you need a lot of forearm strength. A spear is great—if you’re alone, it’s best used as a quarterstaff with a pointy end—though they work best used in lines so that one of you can jab a shield aside as your mate pokes the enemy in the ribs. (Plus—always carry a knife, just in case.) Two weapons and no shield gives you a lot of attack speed, but your defense is lacking, so you need to be quick on your feet. And there’s always the Daneaxe, the two-handed monstrosity that looks like the cover of every heroic fantasy novel you ever saw—incredibly showy when swung around, but a beast (and a devastating one) to use really well. Despite historical evidence to the contrary, swords and shields were the most commonplace.

Sometimes, we trained with neighbourhood groups. This meant that, as well as one-on-one, we trained in shieldwalls, running through basic drills to face oncoming shields, spears, or arrows. The drills were perfect illustrations of battlefield tactics: how units could respond to commands quickly to break an enemy advance or take an opportunity to drive through an oncoming force. These were exhausting but a lot of fun—when I wrote the final battle scenes in Ecko Endgame, I could see, hear and feel all of those old training sessions, the facing an opponent across a shieldrim and the pushing and cursing and fighting for traction that goes with trying to force your enemy back.

And it all adds up—enough time and practice, and I could hold my own against individuals and oncoming lines. And enjoy and look forward to it. As well as melee weapons, I learned to use a bow, and to snipe at single targets behind the opposing shieldwall, leaving them startled as the rubber blunt thumped into their chest. More often then not, they never saw it coming, and would roll their eyes in annoyance and fall over “dead,” sometimes even to a cheer.

As well as the fighting, we had a strong Living History element—craftsmen and women who took a different pleasure in our shared hobby, and would spend summer weekends sitting in the sun talking to the public about wood lathes, runic alphabets, and the forging of basic steel. And we worked together as a family, a little unit in our own right. We showed not only the drama, but the village life and the backdrop that made it all seem that much more real.

We were very fortunate to be able to fight—and frequently camp—in the centre of sites protected by English Heritage. From Lindisfarne to Old Sarum to Whitby to Tintagel, we would celebrate our evenings with fires flickering from ancient walls, and songs (frequently rude ones) raised to the night above. It was an amazing thing to wake up to, as well—hungover or not, the vast age that stood round you was a thing to inspire awe. And probably another coffee.

On occasion, our shows strayed away from the Dark Ages, and into more mid-Medieval periods. I’ve fought in chainmail (about a stone and a half, heavy but not impossible), and in hand-made full plate (about three stone, impossible to either sit down or pee in). And whatever the artists tell you about stylised shoulders and bared cleavage, it’s a very foolish way to try and protect your vitals—never mind being singly impractical to wear.

And, just for the record, if you are in proper full armour and a helm, no one can actually tell what gender you are. And that’s as it should be.

I gave up the Vike almost fifteen years ago, and miss it still. Every so often, old friends post pictures on Facebook, and we’re all a little greyer and wider through the middle, but their celebration and enjoyment doesn’t seem to have changed.

I rather envy them.

Danie Ware is the publicist and event organizer for cult entertainment retailer Forbidden Planet. She has worked closely with a wide range of genre authors and has been immersed in the science fiction and fantasy community for the past decade. An early adopter of blogging and social media, and a familiar face at conventions, she appears on panels as an expert on genre marketing and retailing. Ecko Endgame is her third novel.

Did you by any chance think that David Bowie was slowing down? Did you think, perhaps, that the natural effects of age (not to mention a heart condition) were any match for his sheer Bowie-ness? The new video for”★” (“Blackstar”), the title track from his forthcoming album, is an exhilarating mashup of Thriller, Pan’s Labyrinth, Day of the Dead imagery, and a trio of crucified scarecrows, that will completely dispel any rumors that Bowie is subject to the illusion humans call “time.”

Wait a minute… is that lost astronaut anyone we know?

Or course, it could be that this is all just weirdness for its own sake, and that Bowie is laughing at us…

But we prefer to believe that Bowie is the Monolith, come to take humanity into its next evolution. He will celebrate his 69th birthday on January 8th by transmitting “★” to the inhabitants of Earth.

[via Rolling Stone]

Welcome, readers of Shady Vale, to this week’s instalment in our reread of Terry Brooks’ classic epic fantasy, The Elfstones of Shannara. If you’re unfamiliar with Elfstones, Brooks, or this reread, be sure to check out the introductory post, in which we all become acquainted.

Last week, Amberle and Wil discovered that Grimpen Ward is just as dangerous as they were led to believe.

This week, the Elven army limps into Arborlon, the King awakens, and Amberle and Wil meet an old foe learn about the location of Safehold.

Chapter 35

What happens?

In full retreat, the Elven army falls back to Arborlon. Ander meets with the Elven High Council to prepare for the defense of the Elven capitol, and accepts their allegiance in the absence of his father. Several representatives from other parts of the Four Lands have arrived in Arborlon to aid the Elves against the Demons, including some Dwarf sappers (with promises of a coming army of several thousand armed soldiers) and a group of Sky Elves and their Rocs. Suddenly, Gael, the King’s aide, appears with exciting news: the King is awake!

Eventine Elessedil wakes from his coma, loses a staring contest with his dog Manx, and then learns of the death of his son Arion.

Quotable

They stared at each other wordlessly, father and son, as if some frightening secret had been shared that should never have been told. Then Ander reached down and clasped his father to him. For long moments, they held each other in silence.

Dramatis Personae

• Allanon
• Ander
• Browork
• Dayn
• Ehlron Tay
• Emer Chio
• Eventine
• Gael
• Kerrin
• Kobold
• Manx
• Stee Jans

Analysis

One of my major criticisms of Brooks, which extends to almost all of his books, is the narrative method that he chooses to use for many dramatic or emotionally prominent moments in his stories. For example, one of the most interesting and exciting parts of this chapter is the bravery and skill of Stee Jans and the Legion Free Corps. Consider the passage below:

The chase wore on. Elven Hunters and Free Corps soldier fought side by side in a desperate attempt to slow the Demon advance, watching their numbers dwindle steadily as their pursuers sweapt after them. Without Stee Jans to lead them, they would have been annihilated. Even with him, hundreds fell wounded and dead along the way, lost in the terrible struggle to prevent the long retreat from turning into a complete rout. Through it all, the Legion Commander’s tactics remained the same. The strength of the Demons made it imperative that the Elven army not be forced to stand again this side of Arborlon. So the rear guard continued to strike quickly and slip away, always to swing back for yet another strike and then another—and each time a few more riders were lost.

As the Elven army struggles to stay afloat, praying to reach Arborlon before they drown beneath the Demon army, Jans and his soldiers are the life preserver keeping them afloat.

Throughout this entire chapter, the reader is slammed by the claustrophobic feeling of depression and anxiety that is blanketing the Elves. Jans and the Free Corps, just a drop in an ocean of Demons and Elves, is a symbol of liberation and freedom, a bright burning torch of determination pushing back the shadows cast by the Demon army. It’s a terrific moment for those men and women fighting in the Free Corps, and a pure example of humanity’s perseverance and passion shining through the worst of war. That handful of soldiers keeps the Elven army afloat not just through their military might, but through the might of their belief in survival.

And yet… Brooks tells us all of this, rather than putting us alongside Jans and the Legion Free Corps in the battle. I want to see Jans’ anger, his fiery will to live. I want to feel the tension in his shoulders, to revel in his joy as his blade carves through Demon bodies, to feel the spittle flying from his mouth as he yells commands. Ander and Jans are polar opposites, and this seems like the perfect opportunity to showcase that—for the Borderman to pick the Elf up on his shoulders, to carry him up Mt. Doom, so to speak. Instead, Brooks places us readers in a helicoptor high above the battlefield, and like a news crew, we watch the outcome play out below, ignoring the moment-to-moment tragedy facing those soldiers.

By using a pulled-back, emotionally numbed omniscient narrator, Brooks sucks away a lot of the emotional impact that we see elsewhere in the novel (Wil’s confrontation with the Reaper, etc.) I’ve participated in several writing workshops with Brooks over the years, and he’s constantly advocating the “Show Don’t Tell” mantra of storytelling. It’s a rule that can (and should) be broken when necessary, but Brooks, despite his insistence, demonstrates us the peril of ignoring the old adage.

Switching gears a bit, Eventine waking is interesting for two reasons: a) Ander, who, alongside Stee Jans, has done an incredible job of keeping the Elven army alive, and earned the trust of its leaders along the way, loses his power (and, as we already know, does not have his father’s trust), and b) it highlights how much more difficult things are politically because Eventine lived through the first confrontation with the Demons, rather than being killed outright by the blow to the head.

Leadership of the Elves is not something Ander wanted, nor something he was prepared for, but, as with any true leader, he accepts and takes pride in his responsibilities.

Ander wanted no one to intercede for him in this, nor did he wish to take anything for granted. The support of the High Council, and of the outlanders who had come to give them aid, should be won over by what they might see in him—not by dear or any claim of right that did not ground itself squarely on whatever strength of character he had shown in his command of the Elven army since the moment that his father had fallen.

We’ve already discussed some of the emotional impact that Eventine’s coma caused for Ander, but here we see some of the political implications as well. Ander arrives in Arborlon as the defacto leader of the Elves, commanding their army, and being the point around which they can rally emotionally, but as soon as the High Council begins, he must take a backseat to Emer Chios, who is legal acting leader in the absence of a (still-living) absent King. Brooks sidesteps the issue a bit, by having Chios back Ander almost immediately, but that was no sure thing, and political division among the Elves at this point would be disastrous.

Now that Eventine is awake, control of the Elves will fall back to him, and, as we readers know, his ability to leader the Elves is already compromised, as his insecurity about old age begins to manifest itself as anxiety. The death of Arion, his treasured son and heir, is an emotional weight that no father should have to bear.

All of a sudden, the Elves’ new leaderships core—Ander Elessedil and Stee Jans—will have to cede command to Eventine and new Commander of the Elven army, Ehlron Tay. Scary stuff.

Chapter 36

What happens?

Wil wakes with a groggy head in Eretria’s wagon. The Rover teases him, then retrieves Amberle at his demand. Eretria tells them that she’s soothed Cephelo’s anger after the events in the Tirfing, even convinced the big Rover that Wil’s efforts saved the Rover Family from sure destruction. However, despite her assurances, Wil and Amberle are uncertain about their place in the Rover camp.

They’re locked in the wagon overnight, and Wil meets with Cephelo the following morning. Cephelo confirms Eretria’s words that no hard feelings remain. Wil tells a lie about their reason for being in the Wilderun (that they’re searching to find a cure for the King’s granddaughter). Cephelo demands the Elfstones in payment for taking Wil to a man who might know Safehold’s location. Wil, of course, refuses. Cephelo then asks for half of the monetary reward being offered for the life of the Royal granddaughter. Wil counters with a third of the reward, and Cephelo eagerly agrees, raising Wil’s hackles. Alongside the Rovers, Wil and Amberle leave Grimpen Ward.

Quotable

Wil shook his head. “I will wash myself. Can you lend me some clothes?”

She nodded, but made no move to go. The Valeman flushed.

“I would like to do this by myself, if you don’t mind.”

The dazzling smile broke across her face. “Oh, but I do mind.”

He shook his head. “You really are incorrigible.”

“You are for me, Wil Ohmsford. I told you that before.”

Dramatis Personae

• Amberle
• Cephelo
• Eretria
• Wil

Analysis

I like Wil’s little white lie to Cephelo—it contains just enough truth (he’s working for the Elven royal family, it involves the King’s granddaughter, etc.) and is just selfish enough that someone like Cephelo, who’s going to be skeptical no matter what you tell him, will at least bite onto it and chew for a while. Wil often over-complicates things, usually thanks to his naive enthusiasm, but I think he’s doing the right thing here. Ostensibly, Cephelo should be an ally (the Demons invading won’t be good for the Rovers, either), but it’s hard to see how he can be trusted. I wonder what this adventure would look like if Wil was able to team up with Cephelo, like Shea teamed up with Panamon Creel in The Sword of Shannara?

I expressed some concern on last week’s edition of the reread about the suspension of disbelief required to acknowledge the plausibility of Grimpen Ward. Here Cephelo gives us a brief hint that it functions as a shady trading post for (and this is just reading-between-the-lines speculation on my part) illicit materials and goods. I mean, who can’t see a bit of human trafficking or drug cartels fitting in swimmingly among the cut throats and thieves of Grimpen Ward? Also, Cephelo, man. That guy’ll look you in the eye and smile even as he’s slitting your throat. Don’t like him one bit.

And, don’t we think he’s setting his price for aid a little high? I know Wil’s in a tough spot, and he’s not exactly on good terms with the denizens of Grimpen Ward, but the Elfstones are worth a kingdom, and Cephelo demands them, or something of equal value, in return for guiding Wil and Amberle to someone who might know something about Safehold? Like, sure, don’t undersell your services, but it seems to me like a five percent cut of Wil’s reward would be too much to pay for Cephelo’s help, let alone thirty percent, or a super rare magical talisman.

Chapter 37

What happens?

Amberle, Wil, and the Rovers descend upon Hebel, a reclusive old man who lives in the Wilderun. Cephelo and Hebel clearly have a past relationship, covered only by the thinnest skin of mutual respect. After some tense small talk, Cephelo and Hebel barter on the price for information about Safehold’s whereabouts. Hebel has heard of Safehold, and knows where it can be found: underneath Spire’s Reach, deep within the Hollows, realm of the witches Morag and Mallenroh. Hebel tells a story of once meeting Mallenroh, sending a shiver down everyone’s spine. To warm the evening, Cephelo invites the old man to share in their drinks and food for the evening.

While visiting the well, Wil is approached by Eretria, who calls him on his lies, revealing that she knows that Amberle is not his sister, and calling the story about trying to find a healing herb is straight phooey. Wil acceeds, and reveals their true mission. Eretria also tells Wil that Cephelo has plans to sell her once the reach the southern cities, and begs to go with them to Spire’s Reach. Once again, Wil denies her request—and earns himself a cold rebuke.

Quotable

“Rewards are given and taken away by the whims of fortune, old man. Where one is lost, another is gained.”

Dramatis Personae

• Amberle
• Cephelo
• Eretria
• Hebel
• Wil

Analysis

There’s a lot going on here, and I think it’s a great example of why Brooks at his best is one of the greatest epic fantasists of the ’80s. This chapter gives us a lot of really great world building, tension aplenty (despite no violence or action), neat little insights into several characters, and a big step towards the opening of the third act.

It’s sort of wonderful how Brooks is able to so easily paint a picture of the Wilderun as a home, even after he’s spent pages and pages convincing us readers how dangerous and inhospitable it is. Through Hebel’s eyes, we see something new:

The old man hummed softly to himself as he sat in the cane-backed rocker and stared out into the darkening forest. Far to the west beyond the wall of trees that locked tightly about the clearing in which he saw, beyond the valley of the Wilderun and the mountains that ringed it, the sun slipped beneath the earth’s horizon and the day’s light faded in to dusk. It was the old man’s favourite time of day, the midday heat cooling into evening shadow, the sunset coloring the far skyline crimson and purple, then deepening into blue night. … It was as if, for those few moments, the Wilderun were like any other country, and a man might look upon it as an old and intimate friend.

After we meet Hebel, we get our first glimpse at Morag and Mallenroh, two of the most mysterious villains Brooks has ever created, and I feel like there’s a whole series of novels just waiting to be written about their history and war.

“Morag and Mallenroh—the last of their kind. Once, Elfling, there were many such as they—now there are but two. Some say they were the handmaidens of the Warlock Lord. Some say they were here long before even he. Power to match that of the Druids, some say.” He spread his hands. “The truth is hidden with them.”

From my recollections of The Sword of Shannara and The First King of Shannara, the two novels that directly tell of the Warlock Lord, I don’t remember any mention of an affiliation between Brona and the witches. (Though, please correct me if I’m wrong.) This suggests that Hebel’s second guess, that the witches—whether Morag and Mallenroh, or others of their kind—precede the Druids, which places them deep within the history of the Four Lands, likely born during the time when magic was finding its place in the new world. How did witchcraft evolve in the Four Lands? How many witches were there? Were they killed, Highlander-style, by Morag and Mallenroh? So many questions, so few answers.

I love the way Brooks seeds his stories with moments like this, asking the reader to fill in the blanks.

As a writer, you don’t leave a gun laying around if you don’t plan to use later in your story, and it’s pretty obvious that Morag and Mallenroh are locked and loaded. It makes sense to me that they’d establish their realm around Spire’s Reach, where Safehold and the ancient magic of the Bloodfire reside. I’ve always felt like magic in Brooks’ novel is grounded in the world around it, and there’s no doubt in my mind that residual magic from the Bloodfire compels and strengthens the witches. I like the idea that even they might not recognize why they’re drawn to Spire’s Reach and the Hollows.

In addition to the tension created by the possibility of the witches, there’s also a lot of good verbal sword-fighting in this chapter between Hebel and Cephelo, and, lo-and-behold, the Rover actually loses. It’s easy to dismiss Hebel as a lowly recluse, but he’s obviously sharp, and dangerous in his own way. He’s not exactly easy to like, but it’s fun to see the way Hebel gets under Cephelo’s skin so easily. This exchange is particularly delightful:

“Don’t like Elves. They think they’re too good for this country, for people like me.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Don’t like Rovers either, as you well know. Like them even less than Elves.”

Eretria smirked. “There seems to be a lot you don’t like.”

“Shut your mouth!” Cephelo snapped, his face darkening. Eretria went still and Hebel saw the anger in her eyes.

He chuckled softly. “I don’t blame you, girl.” He looked at Cephelo. “What will you give me if I help the Elflings, Rover? An even trade now, if you want what I know.”

Cephelo glowered. “Do not try my patience too severely, Hebel.”

He waits until Cephelo is vulnerable, then beats the Rover at his own game.

Hebel’s comments about the Elves thinking they’re too good for “this land,” suggests to me that the Wilderun is full of ex-pat Men, Gnomes, Dwarfs, and the like, which goes against my previous assumption that the Westland was overwhelmingly an Elvish land. Is there evidence in any of the other Shannara books for large populations of non-Dwarfs in the Eastland, Gnomes, Trolls, or Elves in the Southland, etcetera? For a land as small as the Four Lands, there’s certainly not a lot of inter-racial mingling, which makes it a unique aspect of Grimpen Ward and the Wilderun.

Next Time on the Reread

Wil and Amberle part ways with the Rovers, the Elfstones go missing, and the Demon army attacks Arborlon.

Hugo Award winner Aidan Moher is the founder of A Dribble of Ink and author of Tide of Shadows and Other Stories. He regularly contributes to Tor.com, the Barnes & Noble SF&F Blog, and several other websites. He lives on Vancouver Island with his wife and daughter.

Sad news, genre fiction fans: November 20, which is to say today, is Associate Publisher Simon Spanton’s last at Gollancz. It isn’t gilding the lily in the least to say that his departure—“by mutual agreement,” according to a statement supplied by the imprint’s parent—marks the end of an era. A truly epic one, to be sure.

His achievements in the nineteen years he’s been a part of the Orion Publishing Group are too numerous to list in any great detail here, but suffice it to say we have Spanton to thank, in large part, for some of the finest speculative fiction released since the turn of the century. If you’ve ever spent a spell sucking up Scott Lynch, or jonesing for Joe Abercrombie, or relaxing with Richard Morgan, know that though he’s “definitely more Arthur Dent than Takeshi Kovacs,” Spanton has been behind the scenes, helping to make the magic happen.

Per The Bookseller:

Spanton joined Orion in 1996, having started out as a bookseller in 1986 and after a spell at Macmillan UK.

He first worked on Orion’s Millennium imprint in a wide role encompassing fiction, sports books, military history and children’s fiction before it was bought by Cassell in 1999, after which he became co-editorial director for Gollancz with Jo Fletcher. Spanton was promoted to the position of associate publisher at the sci-fi and fantasy imprint in May 2013, tasked with responsibility for “innovative acquisitions and Gollancz’s social media and community engagement, as well as continuing to publish his award-winning list to its full potential.”

At the time, Spanton said: “I can’t think of a better, more supported and valued genre list than Gollancz.”

Honestly, I can’t either—not in Britain, that is.

Happily, the fruits of Spanton’s longstanding labours at Gollancz are likely to last for a long, long time to come. We already know the new year will bring with it books by both Scott Lynch and Joe Abercrombie, not to mention any number of novels by the Associate Publisher’s more recent recruits, including Tom Toner, Jon Wallace and Al Robertson, whose Waking Hell was revealed last week.

There’s been no word on what’s next for the man himself, however—though my highest hope is that he takes a page from his fellow former co-editorial director Jo Fletcher, who formed her own imprint under the auspices of Quercus in early 2011 and has gone on to carve out “a small but perfectly formed list publishing the very best in best science fiction, fantasy and horror” in the several years since.

Whatever the future holds for Simon Spanton, he’s done so very much for speculative fiction that I’m sure you’ll all join me in wishing him well in his ensuing endeavours.

Niall Alexander is an extra-curricular English teacher who reads and writes about all things weird and wonderful for The Speculative Scotsman, Strange Horizons, and Tor.com. He lives with about a bazillion books, his better half and a certain sleekit wee beastie in the central belt of bonnie Scotland.

You don’t need to sell anyone at Tor.com on Star Wars. But the current crop of Star Wars commercials being rolled out for The Force Awakens are doing a surprisingly good job of tapping into our nostalgia. While we all grew up with ads for the original and prequel trilogy action figures, Taco Bell meal toys, and inexplicable Shadows of the Empire marketing (“It’s Prince Xizor!” …So?), they were all heavy on the merchandising. And yes, the new ads are for Campbell’s Soup, and Target, and Volkswagon, but they’re imbued with a genuine sense of family. The Star Wars advertising of decades past was directed at whatever age group was old enough for it at that time; these commercials are about legacy, the Star Wars fandom passed down through generations.

Here are a few of the recent commercials that have warmed our Hoth-frozen hearts… plus some vintage ones thrown in for extra WTF factor.

Emily:

I hate most manipulative advertising, but I’ll cop to being impressed with the latest round of Star Wars ads; they do a great job of showing the multi-generational appeal of the series, and focus on sharing it, rather than jealously guarding it. But even so, a commercial for a battery is never the first thing I’d expect to put on my list. Then I spotted this gem somewhere on the Internet, and my insides melted into a gooey puddle.

For starters, C-3PO and R2-D2 showing up in my room to help me save the galaxy was pretty much the only dream I had at the age of ten. The encouragement from the parents is endearing as all get-out. But really, it’s about the finish; the narrative appears to be about this little boy saving his sister, only to find that she doesn’t need any saving whatsoever. Brother and sister play Star Wars together and kick the butts of all bad guys everywhere. I’m not saying that there have never been Star Wars commercials that featured boys and girls, but one that features a girl who is such a total boss, and never gets made fun of for loving Star Wars as much as her brother? That’s something that would have meant the world to me when I was at a tender age.

And then there’s this Underoos commercial… because nothing assures you of the coolness of Boba Fett quite so well as his posing with underwear-modeling preteens, right? I mean, right?

Sorry, I know it’s not heartwarming. I’d just feel bad if this list didn’t haunt your dreams a little bit.

Leah: 

My favorite ad in recent memory happens to be a Star Wars ad. It isn’t an ad for the toys, or a real working BB-8, or a new lightsaber, it’s a simple advertisement for Campbell’s Soup. I love it for a couple of reasons. First, my mom and I used to have soup almost every night for dinner when I was very small, so Campbell’s tends to call up some sort of Prousto-Warholian associations for me. Second, after hearing countless variations on the classic “Luke, I am your father” moment, and seeing tons of compilations of kids’ reactions to that moment, it was wonderful to see the line put into a new context. Plus, the two dads in the ad have just been voted People’ Sexiest Pitchmen Alive, and the controversy around the ad gave Stephen Colbert an excuse for a great bit on The Late Show.

My other favorite Star Wars ad is a little more vintage:

That Wampa just straight up murdered that Tauntaun. This was considered solid marketing for a children’s toy. The ’80s were a different time.

Natalie:

Leah got to the Campbell’s Soup commercial before I did! And to be honest, I forgot what product it was even for, which according to my dad (an advertising executive) means it wasn’t that effective of a commercial. Clearly, what stuck with me more was the father/child bonding, since my advertiser dad was the one who introduced me to Star Wars in the first place. To that end, I nominate the Toys ‘R Us commercial with the dad trying to get his reluctant daughter into Star Wars. Members of my family have the tendency to excitedly want to share something they love with other people, to the point where we have trouble discerning when someone else just isn’t interested. And even though the ending of this is kinda cheesy (and the Campbell’s commercial is a far better use of the “I am your father” trope), the overall story is still sweet.

Then there’s this Superbowl ad from 2011:

Little Natalie definitely didn’t sit up in bed concentrating on her open door and trying to move it with the Force, nope. She wouldn’t relate to this commercial at all.

Chris:

I’m being told this isn’t a Star Wars commercial, but whatever.

You can always count on Cards Against Humanity to come through during the holidays with some good cheer (or great trolling). But this year, in addition to unveiling special Hanukkah cards (last year it was Kwanzaa), CAH is also bringing real trolls, through its first-ever Fantasy Pack! And because the guys behind CAH don’t do anything half-assed, this year they called in the big guns: a crew of fantasy authors including Patrick Rothfuss, Neil Gaiman, Jacqueline Carey, and more to help write the cards.

I’ll admit that after years of playing this as the icebreaker at parties, I’ve started to feel some CAH fatigue. There are only so many ways you can win certain cards, and the expansions don’t really refresh the game so much as prolong it. But I’m impressed with the company for doing what seems to be a bit of retooling: They’re rolling out a number of specially themed expansions, and (as mentioned) bringing in outsider experts. For the Food Expansion, they got the dudes at Lucky Peach (David Chang’s food magazine) to weigh in; the World Wide Web Pack was crowdsourced during a Reddit AMA.

So, back to the Fantasy Pack! Rothfuss wrote about the undertaking on his blog, as the proceeds will go to his charity, Worldbuilders. This is not the first collaboration between Rothfuss and CAH founder Max Temkin. Last year, the company trolled its customers with its Holiday Bullshit campaign, in which they said point-blank that they would send anyone who bought the Holiday Bullshit box actual cow feces. And people still went for it! But some good came out of it, as CAH donated the proceeds to Heifer International, via Worldbuilders. CAH has also used its powers for even more good, releasing a science-themed expansion that ultimately funded scholarships for women in STEM.

The Fantasy Pack includes 6 black question/fill-in-the-blank cards and 26 answer cards; you can check out a few of them in the top image. And here’s everyone who contributed to the cards!

• Patrick Rothfuss
• Neil Gaiman
• Wesley Chu
• Jacqueline Carey
• Myke Cole
• Elizabeth Bear
• Sherwood Smith
• Martha Wells
• Sam Sykes
• Kevin Hearne
• Laura Anne Gilman
• Delilah S. Dawson
• “and a few others who would prefer not to be named,” according to Rothfuss

I would’ve loved to be in the room for that brainstorming session.

The Fantasy Pack is yours for only $10. Check out the Fantasy Pack and others (there’s a Nostalgia one!) in the CAH store. And if you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to work at CAH, you can check out their recent Reddit AMA.

We talk a lot of about writers and stories on Tor.com but we always strive to give equal attention to our visual presentation. We are indebted to the artists who work tirelessly to make us, and our stories, look good and connect to readers. With that in mind, I’m sure you can appreciate how delighted and honored I am that 12 illustrations for Tor.com Publishing have been selected for this year’s Society of Illustrators annual exhibition.

A special congratulations to Sam Weber for having earned a Gold Medal for his illustration for Haralambi Markov’s story “The Language of Knives”. The Society of Illustrators Annual Awards are one the premiere showcases for outstanding work created worldwide throughout the year. Thousands of entries are received and juried by a team of illustrators and art directors. It is truly an honor to be selected for the annual, and a great honor to be one of the few chosen for a medal.

These will be on display at the Museum of American Illustration in February and March 2016 and will be included in Society’s annual, Illustrators, coming out in winter 2017.

I hope you can take a moment to enjoy these works outside of the context of illustration and appreciate them as artworks in themselves. Below, the twelve pieces unadorned.

Cynthia Sheppard for Emily Foster’s The Drowning Eyes

Karla Ortiz for Kai Ashante Wilson’s The Sorcerer of the Wildeeps

Dave Palumbo for Nnedi Okorafor’s Binti

Rovina Cai for K. M. Ferebee’s “Tom, Thom”

Greg Ruth for Michael Livingston’s “At the End of Babel”

Jeffery Alan Love for Andy Remic’s A Song for No Man’s Land

Anna and Elena Balbusso for Angela Slatter’s Of Sorrow and Such

Anna and Elena Balbusso for Charles Vess’ “Father Christmas”

Victo Ngai for Usman Malik’s “The Pauper Prince and the Eucalyptus Tree”

Richie Pope for Malka Older’s “Tear Tracks”

Sam Weber for Haralambi Markov’s “The Language of Knives”

Robert Hunt, “The Killing Jar”

“The Joker Goes to School” / “He Meets His Match, the Grisly Ghoul”
Written by Lorenzo Semple Jr.
Directed by Murray Golden
Season 1, Episodes 15 & 16
Production code 8715
Original air dates: March 2 & 3, 1966

The Bat-signal: We open at 3:09pm at Woodrow Roosevelt High School. The basketball team and the cheerleaders are both practicing in the gym. Also in the gym, Dick is lifting weights. After they run their routine, the cheerleaders are thirsty, so they go to a vending machine that dispenses milk—

—except this one instead gives out piles of silver dollars. Gordon suspects that this totally pointless and victimless crime is the work of the Joker, though to be fair, he has a legitimate concern that the Joker is targeting the youth of Gotham for a more nefarious purpose.

The Bat-phone interrupts the latest in a series of implorations by a city politician to convince Bruce to run for mayor, especially now with the water shortage and the regular blackouts. (They ask him every two years. He always declines, saying his charitable work with the Wayne Foundation requires that he stay above the fray of politics.) Batman heads to the Batmobile solo, as Dick is still at school—so he’s already at the scene of the crime.

Gordon shows Batman some paperwork on his arrival: Joker was released from prison a week ago and immediately bought up the One-Armed Bandit Novelty Company, which makes pinball machines, vending machines, and the like. The people who installed the milk machines have clean records, and they’re just as confused about what happened as everyone else.

They’re interrupted by a call from Principal Schoolfield. The candy machine in the library is now dispensing negotiable stocks and bonds. Batman asks that he call a meeting with the student council (the president of which just happens to be a very bright young lad named Richard Grayson), and he’ll be there shortly.

Dick is at the principal’s office, along with the rest of the student council: Susie (one of the cheerleaders), Pete, and Herbie. The other three are arguing that if you get free money from a vending machine, what’s the point of studying? Everyone’s goofing off. Dick, though, argues that they’re supposed to be student leaders and know better. But then Susie gets a coffee from Schoolfield’s office’s vending machine that has a pile of quarters instead of coffee in the cup. Susie also points out that Dick’s the ward of a millionaire, so he doesn’t appreciate how much this free money means to normal folks (a very legitimate point), though Dick denies that that has anything to do with it.

Batman arrives at the school, where a mob comes to see Robin, only to find out that he’s in school also, though Batman can’t say where to preserve his “secret true identity” (from the Department of Multiple Redundancies Department). He lectures the student council about the Joker, saying that he’s trying to convince the students to abandon their studies and drop out because they don’t need to worry about money anymore, and dropouts are a fertile source for recruitment to be criminals.

At a bar, a drunken customer puts a dime in the jukebox, but instead of the latest 45, it plays the Joker’s voice saying it’s a stickup, and the front opens to reveal a remote-controlled rifle. While the customers put up their hands in fear of being shot, two thugs with stockings on their heads raid the cash register.

Back at the school, Batman is showing the council slides of the Joker—but then the Joker himself appears behind the projection screen, giggling away. Joker says there’s no proof that he gimmicked the vending machines—but Pete points out that he’s loitering on school property, so Batman whips out the Bat-cuffs to arrest him for that. However, he has to have been on school property for more than two minutes, which isn’t up yet—and before it is, he departs, leaving Batman stymied by his jailhouse lawyering.

The Bat-phone beeps, and Batman runs out to the Batmobile to answer it: Gordon tells him about the bar getting hit. But the Joker has an alibi: Batman, who just saw him at the school. Batman surreptitiously tells Dick to fake a headache, go home, and meet him in the Batcave, then—after pleading with the kids to stick to their studies, as nothing in life is free—zooms off to the bar.

The Joker returns to his HQ to meet up with his thugs—both high-school dropouts. Nick is counting the loot while Two-Bits has rigged a bowling game to emit gas on a third strike.

Then Susie shows up—turns out she’s part of the gang, too, working on Joker’s behalf at the school. Using her position on the student council—which apparently comes automatically with being head cheerleader (yes, really)—she has stolen exams from Schoolfield’s safe. But she won’t turn them over until Joker pays her: a rhinestone bracelet, a huge-ass bottle of imported Mexican perfume, and a fox stole.

Batman returns to the Batcave, having found no evidence at the bar. Batman is convinced that the school is a big part of it, so they decide to stake it out. They arrive to a darkened school (it being night-time and all), but Susie is also present, gimmicking Schoolfield’s coffee machine again. She calls Joker (the call sign is “How do you stop a dog from barking in July?” to which the countersign is “Shoot him in June”) and tells him that the Dynamic Duo has shown up at Woodrow Roosevelt. The Joker gives her instructions.

When the pair run into the school, they see Susie, who tells them that she saw a suspicious character in the gym. Robin thinks the milk machine has again been tampered with. Batman puts a dime in, and then the machine shackles their legs and hits them with knockout gas. They’re placed in the back of a gimmicked truck that the One-Armed Bandit Novelty Company apparently made for a Central American dictator, who was deposed before delivery. Batman and Robin are shackled to electric chairs that are hooked up to a slot machine. If the machine comes up three lemons, they’ll be hit with 50,000 volts of electricity. (The other options are three Liberty bells, which gets them their freedom and $50,000 cash, and three oranges, which just gets them their freedom.)

However, before the third lemon can come up, the power goes out (“Just like New York!” Joker cries in anguish, and also just like was mentioned earlier). They then hear sirens, and so Joker decides that discretion is the better part of valor and cheeses it. Batman and Robin are freed by those selfsame cops, and they head to police HQ, which is lit by candlelight. Batman had a microphone on him, which was recording everything on a tape recorder at the Batmobile. While it’s not evidence that will hold up in court (Joker used a voice-disguising microphone to talk to the Dynamic Duo from the front of the truck), Batman can determine the voiceprint patterns in the Batcave.

By morning, the power’s back in Gotham, and Batman and Robin listen to the tape. Robin is utterly devastated to learn that Susie is part of the Joker’s gang. Batman tells Robin that Dick Grayson is going to have to go undercover in the Joker’s gang.

So Dick shows up at the Easy Living Candy Store, where the cool kids hang out on days off, wearing a leather jacket and dark gloves, to show that he’s a badass now. He sets up a minicamera, which Batman picks up on the Bat-scope in the Batmobile (though what Batman sees is from a completely different angle from where Dick put the camera), and talks to Susie and Nick. He plays the role unconvincingly, saying that Bruce Wayne is a skinflint, and that he has to steal dimes from the butler for cigarette money. Nick offers him a cigarette, but Dick declines, saying he’s already smoked two packs today. Before Susie can offer him a place in the gang (citing his athletic skills), Nick tells him to go to the bar that got robbed, where he’ll be able to get plenty of money around 3pm. Susie doesn’t understand why he blew Dick off like that, but Nick saw through the disguise, easily able to tell that Dick’s never smoked a cigarette in his life.

Batman tells Dick that he did great. They head to the bar.

Joker, meanwhile, sets up the jukebox to entrap Dick. He then gives Susie a bottle of Canadian perfume, but tells her not to use it until she restocks the milk machine at the school.

At the bar, Robin puts a dime in the jukebox right at 3pm, just as Nick indicated. The rifle comes out and Joker shoots at Batman and Robin, but they hide behind the Bat-shield, and then the jukebox explodes. Batman actually saw it coming, because he also saw how inept Dick was with the cigarette. Now their concern is Susie: Someone would only go in undercover to talk to Susie if they knew she was part of the gang, which means her life is in danger.

They head to the school. There’s a big game tonight, Woodrow Roosevelt versus Disko Tech (yes, really), and Robin figures Susie will be there getting last-minute practice in. Roosevelt is favored 20-1 in the game, and we hear Joker placing a $50,000 bet with his bookie on Disko Tech.

Batman and Robin arrive at the school and try to convince Susie to turn herself in, but she rebuffs them, going where they dare not: the girls’ locker room. But she can’t resist gloating, so she pokes her head out long enough to say bye-bye and put on some of her new Canadian perfume—which then renders her unconscious, as it’s poisonous.

Two-Bits reports to Joker that he saw them load Susie into a meat wagon from the morgue, with Robin bawling his eyes out. Joker expresses his grief by giving Nick a trick cigar.

Back at the school, the basketball team is determined to win the game for Susie. They stop at the milk machine, but instead of milk, they get the answers to an upcoming state test. Joker, Nick, and Two-Bits show up with a camera, taking pictures of the team holding the answers, exposing them as cheats. They’ll be suspended and unable to play against Disko Tech, leaving the scrubs to play in their place.

But Joker’s betting scheme is done in by Batman and Robin’s universal antidote pills, which saved Susie’s life. In exchange, she revealed the crime, so Batman and Robin put fake answers in the milk machine.

Fisticuffs ensue, and Batman and Robin are triumphant after a Bat-a-rang to Joker’s head. Batman admonishes the basketball team to stick to their studies, as this (Joker unconscious) is the end result of easy living.

Susie goes off to jail—though it’s a juvenile detention center run by the Wayne Foundation, and Bruce even sends her there by chauffeur. Susie is repentant, and Dick promises to mail her every new cheer as it’s created.

Fetch the Bat-shark-repellant! We’re introduced to quite possibly the most ridiculous piece of Bat-equipment, the Bat-shield! The massive ungainly Bat-shield that takes forever to unfold and deploy and which, even when folded into quarters, couldn’t possibly fit anywhere on Batman’s person!

Batman uses a Bat-megaphone to talk to the schoolkids who try to rush the Batmobile. The Batmobile also comes equipped with an Anti-Crime Recorder (which is just an ordinary tape recorder) and a Remote Radio Pick-Up (an antenna), through which they record the incident at the school, which is then run through the Anti-Crime Voice Analyzer in the Batcave. The Batcave also has its own power source. Finally, we get the triumphant return of the universal antidote pills, last seen in the Joker’s prior appearance, “The Joker is Wild”/”Batman is Riled.”

Holy #@!%$, Batman! When the Joker appears behind the projection screen, Dick cries out, “Holy magician!” While struggling with his algebra homework, specifically the x and y variables, Robin grumbles, “Holy alphabet!” When he and Batman wake up in the electric chair tethered to a slot machine, Robin cries, “Holy Las Vegas!” and after finding out that three lemons get them electrocuted, he mutters, “Holy fruit salad.” Upon learning the devastating news that Susie is part of the Joker’s gang, he laments, “Holy Benedict Arnold!” After they’re shot by the jukebox, he says, “Holy hailstorm!” Upon realizing that Susie’s life is in danger, he utters the rather unimpressive, “Holy murder!” He cries, “Holy New Year’s Eve!” when the Joker gets him in his streamers.

But it’s not just Robin being holy this time ’round. In the recap of “The Joker Goes to School” at the top of “He Meets His Match, the Grisly Ghoul,” William Dozier says, “Holy cow juice!” when they show the part where the milk machine dispenses silver dollars. And when the cops find the Dynamic Duo in the back of the truck, one officer cries, “Holy smoke!” at which point Robin says that if they don’t free them before the power comes back on, they really will be holy smoke (har har).

Gotham City’s finest. Gordon continues to be mostly useless—he’s gobsmacked by the very notion of voiceprints, though that could just be him not being up on newfangled technology (spectrograms were still relatively new in 1966)—but his officers comport themselves quite well. In fact, it’s the cops who rescue Batman and Robin from Joker’s cliffhanger deathtrap.

No sex, please, we’re superheroes. Nick tries hitting on Susie, but she tartly informs him that she became a crook to get the finer things in life. (Burn!) Dick is also obviously sweet on Susie, and she rewards him with a kiss before going to the detention center.

Special Guest Villain. Cesar Romero is back as the Joker, making him the second villain (after the Riddler) to make a return appearance, following “The Joker is Wild”/”Batman is Riled.” He’ll be back one more time in this first season, in “The Joker Trumps an Ace”/”Batman Sets the Pace.”

Na-na na-na na-na na-na na.

“Zing! Boom! Sis boom bah! We’re from Woodrow Roosevelt, that’s who we are! Does anybody scare us? The answer is nix! Come on team, let’s make it six! Yeah!”

The Woodrow Roosevelt High cheer, as performed by Susie and her two compatriots, apparently composed by the poetry professor Miss Browning (ahem), who embodies the maxim “those who can’t do, teach.”

Trivial matters: This episode was discussed on The Batcave Podcast episode 8 by host John S. Drew with special guest chum, New York Times best-selling author Dayton Ward.

Joker’s bookie is named Pete the Swede, a riff on Jimmy the Greek, a famous oddsmaker. The high school is named Woodrow Roosevelt, after the two presidents who led the U.S. during a world war (Woodrow Wilson for the first, Franklin Delano Roosevelt for the second).

One of the Joker’s henchmen is played by Kip King, a longtime character actor and voiceover actor (he was Tailor Smurf on The Smurfs), and also the father of comedian Chris Kattan. (You can see the resemblance in this episode…)

In 1981, Antônio Camano and Fernando Pettinati did a silly dub of the already-dubbed Portugese version of this episode with silly and raunchy dialogue, called “Bátima: Feira da Fruta” (“Batman: Fruit Fair”—yes, really). It can be found on the Internet, though Warner Bros. has been cracking down on it since the release of this series on DVD.

Pow! Biff! Zowie! “I’m a crook, Joker, just like you.” A lot of this episode is well put together. Batman’s tracking down of the Joker is refreshingly free of the usual leaps in logic—the Caped Crusader’s detective work is actually quite skilled. I question Batman’s deliberately walking into a trap that involved getting shot at in the bar (especially since he didn’t even clear the bar of innocent bystanders first), but hey, that got us our first look at the magnificently ridiculous Bat-shield, so there’s that. (Seriously, even when I was a kid and bought into much of the absurdity without question, I thought the Bat-shield was the dumbest thing ever. It took forever to unfold and fold, and where did he keep it?) Certainly Batman is a better detective than Robin is an undercover operative—he was the most unconvincing bad boy in the history of bad boys, even before he botched smoking a cigarette.

I also have to admit to taking a certain glee in a rare burst of competence from the GCPD, who are the only reason Batman and Robin are still alive. Speaking of good detective work, it was really bad detective work to just put a dime in the milk machine willy nilly and let themselves get caught. If it wasn’t for Gotham City’s crummy infrastructure and the timely arrival of two officers, they’d be, as Robin said, holy smoke.

And the Joker’s plan is—weird? I dunno, I kinda like the long-term thinking of creating high-school dropouts to increase recruiting among henchmen, but that’s a lot of money to spend for such a low and uncertain reward. I mean, Joker had to invest in the One-Armed Bandit Novelty Company, and then put all that money in the vending machines—and it had to be enough so that it would get to a plurality of the student body. I just don’t see the value of that part of the plan to the Joker at all. Robbing the bar, sure, and also framing the basketball team for inappropriate behavior to win a big bet, also sure. But whatever money he made on those two won’t even be a drop in the bucket compared to what he spent on coins to leave in the vending machines. And I still bet most of the kids would just take the money and keep on as before.

Bat-rating: 6

Keith R.A. DeCandido will be at Philcon 2015 this weekend as one of the author guests, alongside Guests of Honor Wen Spencer (author), Richard Hescox (artist), and Murder Ballads (band). Saturday night at 7pm in Executive Suite 823 will be the official launch party for the super-hero/super-villain anthology The Side of Good/The Side of Evil. Keith’s full schedule can be found here.

Were you intrigued by yesterday’s paperback cover reveal and excerpt from Sabaa Tahir’s An Ember in the Ashes? Well, you’re in luck: we want to send you a copy of the hardcover edition, available now from Razorbill!

In a world inspired by ancient Rome and defined by brutality, seventeen-year-old Laia has grown up with one rule for survival: Never challenge the Empire. But when Laia’s brother Darin is arrested for treason, she leaves behind everything she knows, risking her life to try and save him. She enlists help from the rebels whose extensive underground network may lead to Darin. Their help comes with a price, though. Laia must infiltrate the Empire’s greatest military academy as a spy.

Elias is the Empire’s finest soldier—and its most unwilling one. Since childhood, he has trained to become one of the Masks, deadly fighters who ravage and destroy in the name of the Empire. But Elias is secretly planning a dangerous escape from the very tyranny he has sworn to enforce.

Thrown together by chance and united by their hatred of the Empire, Laia and Elias will soon discover that their fates are intertwined—and that their choices may change the destiny of the entire Empire.

Comment in the post to enter!

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Science fiction artist Richard Powers is among the Society of Illustrators’ newest Hall of Fame inductees, along with Beatrix Potter, Peter de Seve, Marshall Arisman, Guy Billout, Rolf Armstrong, and William Glackens. Since 1958, the Society of Illustrators has elected to its Hall of Fame artists recognized for their “distinguished achievement in the art of illustration.”

Richard Powers was a hugely influential science fiction illustrator throughout the 1950s and ’60s. Vincent di Fate wrote, in his art survey book Infinite Worlds:

When they first appeared on since fiction paperbacks in the 1950s, Richard Powers’s surreal and largely abstract images were usual to see in the field of commercial art. The stir they created launched him on the path to becoming one of the most successful and imitated illustrators in SF, placing him in the company of J. Allen St. John, Frank R. Paul, and Chelsey Bonestell as a prime mover of the field.

Powers was dedicated to a fine art career alongside of his commercial work—the influences of modern art were clear throughout his illustration. While trends switched towards more literal and rendered illustration in the ’80s to ’90s, Powers is still beloved today. This year’s World Fantasy Convention mounted a special exhibit of nearly 90 Powers paintings and collages. Here are a few:

California-based artist Noel Cruz does extraordinary work with dolls! Where celebrity likenesses are normally an eerie trip into an uncanny valley, Cruz is able to touch them up until they look considerably more like their subjects. While he does real people like Lucille Ball and Marilyn Monroe, our favorites are Hunger Games characters and Disney anti-heroines!

Here’s a Peet to go with the improved Katniss:

And here’s Cruz’ Jolie-fied Maleficent!

We love how he changed the eyes to reflect the eerier live-action version. And how much paint did he use trying to perfect those cheekbones? You can see more of Cruz’ work over at Deviantart!

In this ongoing series, we ask SF/F authors to describe a specialty in their lives that has nothing (or very little) to do with writing. Join us as we discover what draws authors to their various hobbies, how they fit into their daily lives, and how and they inform the author’s literary identity!

My dad has a story he used to tell about the Rose Lady. She was a regular customer at the upscale restaurant where he waited tables, and the whole staff could smell her coming from down the block. “She wore so much rose perfume,” he said. “It was like she’d showered in it. I think she’d burned out her nose and couldn’t smell it anymore.”

From this oft-repeated story, I got a sense that perfume was something tasteless and impolite. Something that you imposed on other people who weren’t entirely into the idea. This was reinforced by my mother’s perfume allergy, by the scent-free sanctuary at our U.U. fellowship, by my father’s disdain for the cloying, powdery Bath and Body Works lotion I insisted on wearing throughout high school.

“It smells like a grandmother,” he said. And then he’d launch into the story about the Rose Lady.

The irony here is that my father has excellent taste in cologne—something I didn’t realize until much later. I do remember, as a kid, looking at his bottles of Geo. F. Trumper eau de toilette and wondering how to pronounce “Marlborough,” and if “Extract of Limes” was something you were supposed to cook with or eat.

I started writing about perfume before I started wearing it. In my novel Amberlough, I was attempting to create a decadent, anachronistic world evocative of the early ‘30s: glamorous, opulent, teetering on the brink of disaster. By this time I’d figured out there was an art to wearing perfume—one utterly lost on the Rose Lady—which my monied, taste-making characters had perfected.

But I was writing mostly on speculation and imagination, never having worn much beyond the infamous old lady moisturizer, and I knew I didn’t want to smell like a grandma. Amberlough plays with sexuality and gender roles, as did the perfumes that most appealed to me: “masculine” scents heavy on leather, civet, and oak moss. Bitter and complex. So my first purchase was a sample of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab’s Troll: a burnt, smoky-smelling mixture of vetiver, musk, and cumin. The first time I wore it out of the house, I absolutely panicked.

Everyone could smell me, I just knew it. I was as bad as the Rose Lady, maybe worse. It was too much, too in-your-face. I was sure everyone would look at each other behind my back and grimace. I was forcing my overpowering stink on fragrance-free innocents.

It didn’t matter that I loved the way I smelled; the fact that I could smell myself at all was terrifying. No one else was wearing perfume, let alone something that reeked of burnt spices. Was I not only rude, but a weirdo?

Vindication came with a Guardian article, “My quest to find the great American perfume.” Apparently, perfume paranoia isn’t uncommon in this country. Americans don’t, as a rule, like to smell too strongly, or too strange, whereas in Europe they’ve been wearing goop scraped off of cats’ balls, with pride, for centuries.

It was in this article that I discovered a link to Imaginary Authors, where each scent is inspired by the novel of an author who never existed. Their stand-out scent is City on Fire, a spicy mix of labdanum and burnt matches. The first time I put it on, my roommate walked in and asked “What smells like a fart?” But it settles down into a sweet, smoky haze once the sulfurous top notes disperse, and lingers on your skin and clothes for days.

The idea of disgusting smells made sexy stuck with me—much like City on Fire—until my Clarion class started putting together our annual fundraiser anthology and I needed to write a short story.

Clarion is a science fiction and fantasy writing workshop—one of the longest-running workshops of its kind. It’s six weeks long and for our class, it resulted in big career boosts and familial bonding on the order of a hivemind. We try to give back to the workshop by offering a pay-what-you-can anthology each year, filled with science fiction and fantasy, with all proceeds going to the Clarion Foundation.

Unfortunately, what came out when I sat down to write was a strange amalgamation of E.L. James and Peter Süskind: a violent, sensual story about scent and betrayal, sans robots, magic, or tentacled horrors. Still, into the anthology it went. When my dad bought his copy and read it, I got an email filled with more enthusiastic swearing than I’ve ever seen him use. “You nailed it,” he said. I should have known it would appeal to him. This is a man who described to me, in vivid detail, the plot of Süskind’s Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, long before I ever cracked its pages.

Around the time I was writing this short story, I had lunch with my editor. As we finished the meal, she pulled out a tiny drawstring bag. Inside was a brown glass bottle, filled with a custom perfume based on one I had invented for Amberlough: vetiver, lemons, diesel, and burnt wood. I had been avoiding citrus—too bright and usually too sweet—but the smokiness of this scent toned it down and darkened it. It’s my go-to now for evening author events: a little piece of fiction to wear against my skin.

And skin is important, in this game. Individual body chemistry reacts differently with different scents. What smells good on one person might reek on another. Once you discover what suits you, wearing that scent becomes an act of confidence and daring.

No one wants to be the Rose Lady, screaming their olfactory presence from a football field away. But properly worn, perfume transforms you into that arresting person who walks into a party a little bit late, causing a shudder of awareness through the crowd without disrupting the flow of conversation.

Perfume is tasteless and impolite, in the sexiest, most sophisticated way. It announces your personality to the people around you so you never need to say a word. When you enter a room, it’s an announcement: Like it or not, here I am.

Lara Elena Donnelly lives in a magical Brooklyn apartment with two swell humans and two needy pets. She is a graduate of the Alpha and Clarion writers’ workshops, and her fiction and poetry have appeared in Mythic Delirium, Escape Pod, and Strange Horizons, among other venues. Her vintage-glam spy thriller Amberlough is forthcoming from Tor in January 2017. Her scent-centric story, “The Dirty American,” can be found in The Orange Volume, a fundraiser anthology put together by the Clarion Class of 2012, available on a pay-what-you-can basis. For more information, visit awkwardrobots.org.

Last time, I watched Star Wars: A New Hope and found an appreciation for the older movies that I didn’t know would be there, having only seen (and hated) the prequels.

I went into watching The Empire Strikes Back with slightly higher expectations, tempered by the fact that this was, after all, still Star Wars. Three of Lucas’ movies had already failed me, after all, even if the fourth turned out to be quite good against my expectations.

But could I chance another failure?

Well, heck yeah. I can hate Star Wars with impunity if need be.

As for The Empire Strikes Back…

The Empire Strikes Back left me stunned.

It truly did. Every moment hit hard. The music hit hard. The characters hit hard. The reveal, which I already knew about, hit hard. Even the plot hit hard, and I was not expecting that.

I had a little trouble putting together this post, because I didn’t want to leave the Star Wars universe. Not with Han Solo encased in carbonite. Not with Lando and Chewie going off in the Millennium Falcon, which I’m starting to view as being a sort of… friend that can jump into hyperspace and who has their failings, but hell if they can’t kick it with a little help when it’s needed. The little ship that could.

And I didn’t want to leave with the unresolved feelings that Luke now has towards Vader. Those feelings. Why did Luke’s anguish touch me in a way that Anakin’s anguish in Revenge of the Sith never did? I mean, both of ‘em go “NOOOOOOOOO!” in possibly the most hammy way ever, and I was entirely prepared to hate the ham, but… I didn’t hate it.

I felt Luke’s “NOOOOOOOO” was earned. Not because he’d suffered more than his father, but I think it’s partly because I’m just more sympathetic to Luke, whereas I didn’t have much sympathy for Anakin even after all his limbs got chopped off and he burned in lava, and that’s saying something. I never did like the slaughterers of children. Also the acting is better. It felt like there was more build-up to the big no than there was with Anakin-now-Vader in the prequels.

The prequels have left me… a bit confused when it comes to The Empire Strikes Back. For instance:

• Just when was Obi-Wan Kenobi (hereafter called “Ben”) as rash as Luke? I don’t think I saw that side of him in the prequels. But then again, he was older, so perhaps he was, but… I would have expected to see a more hot-headed Young Ben.
• I thought Ben’s master was Qui-Gon Jinn, not Yoda. Did I miss something? Maybe Rash Young Ben was first taught by Yoda, and then handed off to Qui-Gon when he was less of a burden? (I would have liked to see that.)
• Yoda here is so different from Prequel!Yoda that I’m not sure what to think about the change. Prequel!Yoda probably wouldn’t know a joke if it poked his backside, while Yoda here is very… muppety, for lack of a better word.
• Every time I see Yoda I think about him bouncing around like a hyperactive tennis ball around Count Dooku. But I guess this Yoda wouldn’t mind that so much.

Somehow I feel like we should have a Star Wars 0.5 and maybe a Star Wars 3.5. As it is, the character changes feel too… sudden.

No, scratch that. Let’s not give people ideas about revisiting the prequels. Although that book series by Terry Brooks is intriguing me…

Han Solo is now veering firmly over into the territory of “good.” But fortunately we’ve got some of the grey back in the form of Lando Calrissian. I had no idea Lando would turn out to actually help folks, even though he was obviously in a gray area of morality. In a way, I understood Lando’s character arc, hidden though most of it was offscreen and before the plot. He grew up from being a scoundrel like Han to being respectable and responsible. The acting sold that depth so well.

Man, I like Lando a lot. Are there Lando fan clubs? Can I get a stuffed Lando? Can I get Lando on a mug? Or better yet, on a rug?

But what I really want to talk about? It’s that reveal.

How can a reveal I already know about shock me this much?

Well, first, I didn’t know all the details. “Luke, I AM your father,” leaves so much context out. I admit that, in this case? The prequels did deepen the relationship between Vader and the Emperor. When the reveal was made to Vader, I understood why Vader might try to not only kill the Emperor for deceiving him about his son’s existence (and wow, wonder what happens when Vader finds out about Leia), but also tempt his son to the dark side so that they could rule together.

Vader promised the Emperor he would kill Luke if Luke refused. Instead, Vader gave Luke every single chance he could to say yes. If Luke hadn’t decided to let go of the railing, I think the conversation would still be going on.

After all that he had gone through, Vader still felt love.

That’s incredible. That’s touching. The prequels actually did flesh that out, and well.

And Vader grew up enough to know that screaming right away and trying to flail at the Emperor would get him nowhere. Of course he’d grow up. The details were probably interesting…

… Can we have a Star Wars 3.75?

I wonder now if, when Lucas first plotted the prequels, if this moment was what he concentrated on. I wonder if the prequels could just have been condensed down into one movie—because I feel that’s the only part that came remotely close to working. Sometimes, anyways.

Man, C-3P0 still annoys me. Annoys me a lot. I know, I know, he has a purpose as a translator rather than as goofy sidekick who sticks his tongue into motors. But he still grates on me. Also, I don’t like his card in Star Wars: The Card Game.

Of course, there’s also that love story between Han and Leia. It’s pretty well done. I did not expect that. Subtle and nuanced even though they exude a hate-each-other-so-much-it’s-love tension. How does that even happen?

Well, it happened here.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Five words. Five words got across more emotion than the entire “No! It’s because I’m so in love with you” conversation. Of course, the compressed meaning in that conciseness is due to context and plot and character development.

I gotta say it. I love this movie. I see why other people love it. Heck, I’m 36, have little nostalgia for Star Wars, and I still loved this movie.

There is so much good here. Will there be as much good in Return of the Jedi, especially since I only have access to the latest digitally remastered (and then some) original trilogy movies?

I hear I’m going to see Anakin’s face again. I really hope not. Also, do the massacred kids stay in Jedi heaven or whatever it is that Ben speaks from? If so… how awkward that must all be.

Star Wars 6.5. And that’s it, I promise you.

Ava Jarvis née Arachne Jericho is a freelance writer, techie, and geek. By day she writes about high-tech topics, and by night she writes about board games at her blog, the Elemeeple.

Hot off her Alias reread, Tansy Rayner Roberts reviews Netflix’s Jessica Jones. In this post: “AKA Ladies Night” and “AKA Crush Syndrome.” Spoilers for season 1.

“AKA Ladies Night”

Written by Melissa Rosenberg
Directed by S.J. Clarkson

“New York may be the city that never sleeps, but it sure does sleep around.”

Meet Jessica Jones (Krysten Ritter): a weary noir voiceover attached to a sarcastic private detective with a drinking problem and a mean left hook. She also has superpowers, but be cool, we’re being subtle here. Jessica describes her job as being about “finding dirt” AKA catching out cheaters, and then having to break it to their significant others.

After throwing an angry client through the glass pane in her own office door, we watch Jessica making her way through her seedy life in a seedy part of the city, pointedly not looking at posters of a certain happy blonde talk show host (though the camera lingers).

Jessica juggles several cases during this episode, in great Chandleresque tradition of the multi-tasking detective. She hustles corporate lawyer Jeri Hogarth (Carrie-Ann Moss) into giving her work despite having turned down a more permanent position, and the two of them analyse Jessica’s highly erratic (but effective methods.

Jessica also spends some time taking shots of local bartender Luke Cage (Mike Colter) indulging in an illicit hookup, because it’s that or admit her own insomnia.

Why does no one in this city ever close their blinds? Have they not watched Rear Window or Veronica Mars? This answers the question about whether or not Jessica and Luke know each other yet. If he were properly acquainted with her, he’d know how important it was to not smooch ladies in front of an uncovered window.

Jessica is clearly suffering from PTSD, which creeps up on her in inadvertent moments, characterised by a purple light palette shift and whispered words or gestures from a man in her past. It’s David Tennant, you guys, creepier than you’ve ever seen him before. Who’d have thought it would be unpleasant to watch him lick someone?

A new case on Jessica’s books involves a missing young college athlete called Hope, who has two loving parents and has obviously been manipulated by her new boyfriend into ditching her perfect life.

At first this looks like a mundane case. Hope’s Dad is adorably down to earth, so distracted by Jessica’s broken door that he nags her about tools so he can fix it for her. It’s clear she has no idea what to do with parental attention.

“And leave a woman living alone in this city with no lock and no door? It’s not safe.” Bob is the best. We like Bob.

Jessica’s lack of respect for doors and security continues throughout her investigation, whether she’s carefully timing a walk-through to avoid being buzzed up to buildings, or discreetly breaking into an apartment (with people inside) rather than repeating her knock. She leaves broken locks and splintered wood wherever she goes!

Hope’s roommate insists there is no mystery—it’s just a girl getting a dodgy boyfriend and flaking out, happens all the time.

Serving a summons to Hogarth’s difficult customer, Jessica intimidates him with her car-lifting abilities, mocks him with the possibility that she has laser eyes, and gets the job done. So that’s what Hogarth meant by her “methods,” huh?

It’s hard to tell if Jessica was stalking Cage for a job or for herself, and the lines blur when he catches her creeping outside his bar, and invites her in for “ladies’ night,” which apparently means she doesn’t have to pay for her drinks, because she’s hot.

The best sex scenes are those that tell us something about character. Luke and Jessica’s hookup is packed full of it, as they’re both equally determined to have a “no feelings” one night stand, and also to discreetly indulge in rough sex without hurting the other person, or letting on that they both have superpowers.

Jessica tracks Hope’s “only for emergencies” credit card through lingerie purchases and other boyfriend-bait to a restaurant where she and her man dined recently. Suddenly Jessica’s own past trauma becomes horribly relevant. Hope isn’t just another girl with a controlling boyfriend. Her “boyfriend” controls everyone. The waiter is still faintly traumatised that he can’t remember why he comped a $500 bottle of wine for their table, or why it seemed like a reasonable idea for an Asian Fusion restaurant to provide pasta amatriciana.

Through purple-lit flashback, we learn that Jessica was once in Hope’s place, controlled by Kilgrave and happy to do (and feel) whatever he told her to. His behaviour with Hope is following a very exact “one month anniversary” pattern, and that means Jessica knows where he will be—but more to the point, she’s pretty sure he’s done all this to make a point to her.

Devastated and terrified, Jessica tries to get money out of Hogarth so she can bug out to Hong Kong, and when that doesn’t work, she calls on the closest thing she has to a friend (though she has already stated she doesn’t have friends)—celebrity talk show host Trish Walker (Rachael Taylor).

Trish tries to convince Jessica that it’s her PTSD making her think Kilgrave is still alive, but is willing to believe her friend is in danger. She gives Jessica the money to run, though it’s clear she expects better of her—like, rescuing the girl, maybe? Jessica is wrapped up in her own past guilt. She thinks of her own powers as a liability when dealing with Kilgrave.

TRISH: You’re still a person who tried… to do something.

JESSICA: Tried and failed. That’s what started this. I was never the hero that you wanted me to be.

Jessica’s our hero, though, and despite resisting the call until the last minute, she finally sucks it up and goes to the hotel to face her demon… but he’s not there.

Hope (Erin Moriarty) has been lying still in the hotel bed for hours, alone, unable to move because he told her not to. Jessica drags Hope kicking and screaming from the hotel. Back at Jessica’s apartment, she reunites the traumatised girl with her parents, and breathes a sigh of relief as she sends the three of them home to Omaha, knowing that with enough distance and time, Kilgrave’s influence over Hope will diminish.

She spoke too soon. As the lift doors close behind the family, Hope produces a gun, pulling the trigger until there are no bullets left…

In the final moments of the episode, Jessica walks away, abandoning a screaming Hope and her dead parents in the lift—but once she’s taken a breath of fresh air and accepted her responsibility, she returns to deal with the clean up, because that’s who Jessica Jones is.

Comics and Continuity:

While the script does not replicate the same narrative as the Alias comics (nor should it, though I don’t think I’m alone in wishing they’d incorporate the Captain America sex scandal) there are so many nods to the source material in this first episode, including the angry client crunching through the glass in Jessica’s door, the scene with her sitting on the toilet, and even Luke and Jessica’s preferred sexual position.

Michael Gaydos has been acknowledged as a creator of Jessica Jones along with writer Brian Michael Bendis, and it’s clear that his aesthetic has been massively influential on the visual style of the show, including the shifting colour palette, and the tilted camera angles that feel at times like they’ve been borrowed from A Touch of Evil or similar film noir classics.

David Mack, meanwhile, whose collage covers were so integral to the original and recent reprint runs of Alias, provides artwork for the credit sequences.

One significant change is that Jessica’s apartment is also her office in the TV show—which makes sense from a New York rent point of view, but seems horribly unsafe considering how awful so many of Jessica’s clients turn out to be. And, you know, that her druggie neighbour keeps wandering in to steal her peanut butter.

It is, of course, horribly unsafe, but Jessica constantly treads the line between over-confidence (thanks to her superpowers) and punishing herself, so her living arrangements make a perfect, awful kind of sense.

Trish Walker AKA Patsy Walker or Hellcat, takes the place of Carol Danvers as Jessica’s distanced best friend, and that relationship comes across clearly here, the combination of frustration and tension that comes from having tried for too long to help a loved one who keeps pushing you away. Trish is more sympathetic than Carol was in Alias, and a big part of that is that she is more understanding of what Jessica went through, and why Kilgrave is such a monster.

Luke Cage feels exactly in character from the comics, the only difference being that he is meeting Jessica for the first time, rather than being an old friend well acquainted with her shit. (If the next season of Daredevil could feature Luke and Jess reluctantly hired to play bodyguard for Matt Murdock, I would be a very happy woman)

Jeri Hogarth is a fantastic character, an antagonistic ally (for now, not sure which direction they’re taking her in) whose role feels very much like one that most television producers would cast male—down to the harried wife and affair with the pretty secretary, which would be beyond cliché if a male actor played the part. She actually is a genderbent version of Jeryn Hogarth, one of Iron Fist’s retinue of paternal characters. Carrie-Ann Moss’s scenes with Ritter are fantastic, bringing home that despite the prominence of Luke Cage and Kilgrave, this is a superhero story revolving around women.

I often come back to Veronica Mars for reference, another female-centered noir detective TV series. Jessica has many elements in common with Veronica, including a tortured past, a strong sense of isolation from former friends and allies, and an overwhelming sense of justice that has been almost but not quite beaten out of her. The big difference between the two stories is that Veronica’s original ensemble was all-male.

The other comparison that most people are going to make is between Jessica and her Netflix hero counterpart, Daredevil. I think it’s interesting that Daredevil devoted several episodes to building up Matt Murdock, his character and his purpose, before fully introducing the Big Bad of his season, Wilson Fisk. The same was true for Jessica Jones in Alias—the comic placed hints about her past trauma and her reasons for quitting superheroics, but we didn’t get the full Purple Man/Kilgrave reveal until the last story arc of the final trade of the series.

With this version of Jessica Jones, we’re in on the Kilgrave mystery from the start. His presence as a creeping menace through the city provides a sense of dread, one purple-lit flashback at a time.

The power of the Alias story was that Jessica was isolated, with no one else understanding what Kilgrave had put her through—but it’s even more powerful to see Hope’s experiences mirror those of Jessica and give her something important to fight for. Trying to free Hope of Kilgrave, and failing, makes for a devastating blow, but sets Jessica up as our broken hero, the one we will follow anywhere.

If she can prove Hope isn’t responsible for Kilgrave’s actions, maybe Jessica can learn to forgive herself too…

“AKA Crush Syndrome”

Written by Micha Schraft
Directed by S.J. Clarkson

Jessica becomes her own client, tracking down the mystery of how Kilgrave survived a bus crash she believed had killed him over a year ago. Her aim is to prove Hope’s innocence of murdering her parents, and “temporary insanity” isn’t going to cut it. She needs evidence that there is such a thing as a man who can brainwash others with his very proximity—first to prove it to Jeri Hogarth’s satisfaction, in order to convince the other woman to defend Hope.

(Cough, I hope there are other Veronica Mars fans out here who keep blinking at the use of the term “bus crash” in conjunction with Krysten Ritter. It’s not just me, right?)

Following the trail of former victims, Jessica’s isolation unravels—in searching for evidence that Hope’s plight was real, she is also gathering proof of her own past trauma. Ha, and she claimed to be avoiding therapy!

In one of the most powerful scenes of the episode, Hope describes how Kilgrave made her jump for hours, as high as she could, and how he always told her that Jessica was the best at it. He made her feel like nothing, because even as a star athlete who specialised in long jump, she couldn’t stack up to the woman with super powers.

Hope suggests that Jessica should kill herself, reflecting Jessica’s own fears about Kilgrave getting control of her again—her body, with its super strength, could be a terrible weapon in his hands.

The loss of dignity and autonomy, and the lingering effect of Kilgrave’s abuse long after his powers have ceased to hold her, is Jessica’s issue as much as it is Hope’s and gives her a powerful reason to help the young woman.

We see this pattern repeated when Jessica tracks down the ambulance driver who is brain damaged from a stroke, and living on permanent dialysis after “voluntarily donating” both his kidneys to Kilgrave to ensure his survival. And again, when she hunts down the doctor who performed the surgery. Both these men are traumatised by what they did and agreed to under Kilgrave’s influence, as much because it felt voluntary as because of their actual actions.

The doctor is Jessica’s chance to convince Hogarth, and she pushes him into giving testimony. She may not have realised, however, that by pushing Hogarth to help Hope, the lawyer will learn more about Jessica herself than she ever intended.

The doctor also gives Jessica a clue as to how she might actually get the jump on Kilgrave—surgical anaesthesia, which dampens the effect of his powers in a way that sleep does not.

Jessica’s abusive relationship with doors continues throughout this episode, particularly when she confronts her noisy upstairs neighbours, only for the brother of the screamer twins to imprint on her like a baby duckling. The precariousness of her sense of safety is still represented by the cardboard sealing up her own broken door, especially when she almost kills an intruder in her apartment, who turns out to be a door repairer that Trish sent.

Jessica and Trish both want to repair their broken friendship and keep each other safe, and they communicate this through screaming at each other a bunch. We learn that they were flatmates once, but while Trish wants Jessica to come home and be “safe” behind her security system and doorman, Jessica’s own definition of “safe” is very different—an empty apartment and no friends nearby means no one who can be used by Kilgrave to get to her.

Her no friends policy, of course, was ongoing even when she believed Kilgrave to be dead…

JESSICA: Don’t… have feelings, okay?

TRISH: Not okay!

What Jessica doesn’t know is that Trish is working with a personal trainer to become a dangerous weapon herself—and she’s brutal!

Luke, meanwhile, is pissed at Jessica because the police showed him photos that she took of him with Gina, a woman he regularly sleeps with—and those photos have at least slightly implicated him in Hope’s case.

Jessica claims that she was hired by Gina’s husband to prove she was cheating on him with Luke—but that may not be the whole truth. After Luke confronts Gina and she rushes home to talk to her husband, he claims no knowledge of Jessica. The husband is, however, mad enough now to get a posse of rugby buddies together and attack Luke.

Jessica joins the bar brawl to help Luke even the odds (it’s a great fight scene, showing Luke’s cool, unflinching technique, and Jessica’s own more chaotic style, which includes doing random damage to poor inoffensive phones). The two reveal more to each other than they intended about their strength, especially when a piece of broken glass shatters instead of cutting Luke’s throat.

Kilgrave finds a new apartment in which to hang out, imposing himself on the family who lives there with a stunning casual cruelty that is only going to get worse. David Tennant proves he can be terrifying even without his face fully in focus—entire scenes revolve around how intimidating the back of his earlobe can be.

Speaking of apartments, Luke tracks Jessica to hers (that broken door is the gift that keeps giving!) and forces a conversation she doesn’t want to have, about their mutual superpowers—proving his own claim by applying the door repairer’s abandoned power tools to his mighty abs.

Luke Cage has no respect for power tools! (I choose to believe he broke it deliberately out of revenge for that phone Jessica broke in his bar.) Has Jessica Jones finally found a man she can’t damage?

LUKE CAGE: You can’t fix me. I’m unbreakable.

I think he’s assuming a lot to think Jessica wants to fix him, considering how long it’s taken her to do anything about her door.

Comics and Continuity:

The interrogation of Jessica at the beginning of the episode nicely reflects that in issue 2 of Alias, only it is a much shorter scene!

The legal ramifications of Hope’s situation is a crucial example of the difference between the two universes inhabited by the two versions of Jessica Jones: in the Marvel Comics Universe, superheroes and all manner of screwy magical hijinks have been long established, for decades. The Avengers might not be fully aware of how badly Jessica was affected by her experience with Kilgrave, but at least his existence is something no one is going to argue with.

In the Marvel Comics Universe, actual comic books are taken as official documentation of real life events, and are used as formal evidence and precedent in court cases!

In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, there have still only been a handful of documented superheroes, and while Thor might appear on the nightly news from time to time, that doesn’t mean there’s legal precedent for the existence of paranormal powers, outside the (destroyed) S.H.I.E.L.D. filing cabinets.

Netflix Jessica doesn’t have a Jennifer Walters or equivalent to hire as an expert in Superhuman Law—which is why she has to go to so much trouble to convince Jeri Hogarth that there is a case worth fighting.

(Does anyone else want the She-Hulk spinoff where Jen Walters goes to work for Jeri Hogarth? I DO.)

Jessica Jones also doesn’t have Jean Grey to help her deal with Kilgrave’s brainwashing effect. She only has the “real world” resources she can bring to bear on the situation.

Meanwhile, questions remain about these versions of the characters. What is the significance of the “Alias” name, to Trish and Jess? We still don’t know what their heroic past was together. Obviously they weren’t in the Avengers, but there’s something we haven’t been told yet. Also, if Jessica wasn’t creeping on Luke for a client, why was she taking pictures of him in the first place?

Luckily, we don’t have to wait around to find out!

Tansy Rayner Roberts is a Marvel Comics tragic, and a Hugo Award winning blogger and podcaster. Tansy’s latest piece of published short fiction is “Fake Geek Girl” at the Review of Australian Fiction, and she writes comics reviews on her own blog. You can find TansyRR on Twitter & Tumblr, sign up for her Author Newsletter, and listen to her on Galactic Suburbia or the Verity! podcast.

Have you finished your Jessica Jones binge? Because the first episode of The Expanse is now available on Syfy’s site! The episode, “Dulcinea,” is a gripping introduction to James S.A. Corey’s world, and the tense peace between Earth, Mars, and the Belt society that clings to the far end of the solar system. You can also read a spoiler-free review of the episode here plus a more in-depth look at the differences between the opening of the book and the pilot. Watch for yourself here!

You know when you’re going along enjoying some Doctor Who, and then the show takes out a sledgehammer and smacks you across the face?

Yeah, it’s one of those weeks.

Summary

The Doctor and Clara have a grand old time getting kicked out of the most beautiful garden in the universe. When they get back on the TARDIS, the phone rings, and Rigsy (from last season’s “Flatline”) is on the phone. He has a tattoo on the back of his neck that is a number… which keeps counting down. They go to Rigsy’s place and discover that he has a partner and a baby girl, and that he missed work yesterday and doesn’t remember what he did, only that he came back with this tattoo. The Doctor explains that he had contact with aliens in that missing time (he’s been given Retcon to forget it), and that the tattoo is counting down to Rigsy’s death. Rigsy and Clara insist that the Doctor save him, so they work together to find out where Rigsy has been. They look for “trap streets” in London, places that the eye wanders over, and they end up stumbling onto an alien refugee camp run by Ashildr—now known as Mayor Me. She promises to keep Clara safe during their time on the street.

They’re told that Rigsy committed murder, killing a woman named Anah of the two-faced Janus species; the women of their culture can see into the past and future. This alien refugee camp has a precarious existence. The aliens are protected by light worms that cast a sheen over the camp, allowing people to see what they expect to see. Mayor Me keeps a very tight ship; Rigsy’s tattoo countdown in a chronolock that is linked to a shade (that typically appears in the form of a raven) who seeks out and kills whoever has the chronolock placed on them. The Doctor, Rigsy, and Clara witness one of these executions: an old man who stole from the camp’s medical rations to save his partner. Mayor Me refuses to lift the chronolock’s hold on him, doing so to keep the careful truce between so many different aliens intact. She admits that Rigsy was simply found standing over Anah’s body—there was no proof of his guilt. If the Doctor and Clara can convince the rest of the camp that Rigsy is innocent, she’ll release him. Clara finds out from one of the denizens that the chronolock can be passed to another person, if that person is willing to take it on. She has the idea to take it on herself, since Me promised to protect her, figuring that it will buy them more time in case it’s hard to convince people. Rigsy is reticent, but Clara insists.

They go to speak to Anah’s son, Anahson—who turns out to be her daughter. She was hiding as a boy to stay safe, since only the females of their species have the ability to see through time. Anahson knows that Me created this whole frame up to bring the Doctor to the camp, but she can’t see how this will affect the Doctor because his timeline is so confusing. They go back to the chamber where Anah’s body is being kept, and the Doctor realizes that she’s still alive, just being kept in stasis. The only way to release her is through the control panel, which has a keyhole for the TARDIS key. The Doctor uses his key, releasing Anah, and getting a metal band wrapped around his arm for the trouble. Me admits that it’s a teleportation bracelet, a bargain she struck with another species to keep the aliens on her street safe. She asks the Doctor for his confession disc, which he hands over. She goes to take the chronolock off Rigsy, so Clara admits her scheme. Me is shocked; the contract she has with the shade only allows her to lift the chronolock on the person she issued it to… she cannot lift it from Clara.

The Doctor threatens Me, demanding that she save Clara, but Clara talks him down. She tells the Doctor that this was her choice, and her mistake, and begs him not to be angry at others for it. She tells him that she knows he’ll do badly following her death, and asks him to not to seek revenge or hurt anyone as a result. She asks him to be proud of her bravery, for facing her death the same way Danny Pink did. She goes out to the street to face the raven and dies. The Doctor tells Me that Clara asked him not to be angry for her sake, not his, and tells her that she would be wise to stay out of his way from now on. Me activates his teleportation band, and the Doctor disappears.

Commentary

So, um. I binge-watched Jessica Jones this weekend and decided that I’d use Doctor Who as a recovery from that…

…haha.

We knew that this was Clara’s last season (she’s set to appear in the final episode, but knowing Who, that could mean anything; as a hologram, as a past version of herself, as a figment that the Doctor’s brain conjures up in a moment of crisis). And Steven Moffat promised that Clara’s exit from the show was going to be final in a way that no New Who companion has been so far. If this is truly Clara’s death, then it would seem to be true—the Doctor has lost many people, but Clara’s exit makes her the first on-screen companion to die since Adric, a Fifth Doctor’s companion, way back in 1982.

This episode sees the return of Rigsy, and that poor man cannot catch a break. There are a number of topical aspects to this episode that look very different when examined without the sheen of aliens and time travel, and the idea of framing a black man for murder to appease a tense community cannot be ignored in this context. Ashildr nearly kills an innocent man, robs his infant daughter of a parent, for nothing but her own agenda. Her ploy required that she pick someone the Doctor already knew, of course, it’s just so upsetting that it had to be him. One can only hope that Rigsy will make it back to the Doctor one day and get to have an adventure that doesn’t put his life and happiness in such needless jeopardy. (He’d be a great companion to a female Doctor, methinks. Having an artist companion would be an awesome change-up from the usual.)

Can we talk about the Twelfth Doctor and his way of handling children? Because I know everyone loved Eleven and Stormageddon, but I think I prefer Capaldi with kids. His simultaneous wonder and daddy instincts make him seem so much safer than recent incarnations. Which is particularly funny since he’s supposed to come off a bit edgier than his predecessors… but try and convince me of that when he’s tying some random kid’s shoe, and getting all awed of Rigsy’s baby.

This episode is the second of the season to be penned by a woman—after a long deficit in that regard—and Sarah Dollard had some excellent credentials to recommend her to the show (including Merlin and Being Human). It’s a sharp script, layered and full of many new ideas that I hope become staples of the future. The use of trap streets made me assume that the Doctor was about to find Diagon Alley, and has endless possibilities for hidden aliens communities on Who. That said, the fact that Me is running a refugee camp is extremely topical right now, something that the show could not have predicted when the episode was in production. And to Doctor Who’s credit, these aliens are not demonized for their plight, distrusting as they are. We see how hard they must work to survive, how carefully their lives are policed.

Mayor Me is trying to do something good with her influence and endless experience, but she is essentially wielding martial law over these beings, with no recourse for unacceptable behavior aside from death. It will be interesting to find out who she made this bargain with, protecting her little colony in exchange for the Doctor. If she doesn’t appear for the rest of the season, we can count on more from this community again.

And then there’s Clara. The instant it was made clear that the chronolock could be transferred, you knew she was going to take it on for herself. The question was only how bad the outcome could possibly be, which didn’t become obvious until Me’s usual resolve cracked.

I expect that there’s a contingent of fandom that will be upset that Clara’s exit was not more dramatic, on par with Rose or Amy’s big bows. But this is a better call for Clara; her recklessness has been a theme this season, and yet she never apologizes for it, not even here at the end. Rather, she poses the question to the Doctor that every companion deserves to ask—if he is allowed to be reckless, then why can’t she? Clara was in it for the danger, for the mystery, for the ability to be hero. She got her wish. It doesn’t seem like a punishment for her choices, merely a logical outcome, one that she accepts because she’s always known it was coming. It is a logical outcome for the Doctor as well—the only difference for him is that he is, as he put it, slightly less breakable.

I’ve also noticed that there has been some commentary by viewers this season on being aggravated at Clara’s prolonged goodbye. This season has telegraphed her impending departure pretty heavily, giving us a fake-out death scenario in practically every story. And again, I’m not bothered by it. For my part, the surprise factor is never key to my enjoyment in a companion’s swan song. Every single costar on the show has announced their exit beforehand, and every single Doctor for that matter. It’s not the unknown that gets me—it’s the emotional impact of the goodbye. So far, every single companion has delivered in that regard. In fact, Clara’s reckless behavior this season made it all come together; allowing the audience to become accustomed to her cavalier attitude makes us complacent, unconcerned. By the time that it’s clear Clara isn’t going to get out of this particular scrape, the inevitability of it is painful in the extreme. We lost Clara Oswald a long time ago. It’s just taken a while for her number to come up.

Perhaps most important of all, she died saving the life of one good friend. Because we’re so accustomed to companions doing extraordinary things in the Doctor’s name or their own, that we forget how important it is for them to do the subtle, smaller things that good people do. Her farewell is a perfectly constructed scene, allowing the two of them only enough time to say everything that matters without filters. Every second has to count.

And because Clara is a companion that has seen so much of the Doctor’s life, she’s one of the few who can ask him not to rail at her death and become the worst version of of himself. She echoes the words that she said to him back when he wore a different face: “Don’t be a warrior. Promise me. Be a Doctor.” And we know from the look on his face that it might be too much to ask of him, but you know those words will matter down the road. For all that Clara Oswald was on the TARDIS to fulfill her own desire for adventure and excitement (a noble cause indeed), when it’s over, she takes care of the people who matter to her. She has every right to ask the Doctor to be proud of her, and is every bit as brave as she asks herself to be.

If I had a single nitpick, it’s with the editing; the shots of Clara’s final cry from multiple angles replayed is gratuitous, and does nothing to make the scene more impactful—if anything, it makes it seem more like a parody. But other than that, it was extremely well done by everyone involved.

Bits and bobs of note:

• Rigsy was given Retcon, the same amnesia drug popularized on Torchwood.
• Among the aliens we see in the camp are a Sontaran, two Judoon, and an Ood fixing up a Cyberman. (Can we get an episode about their friendship? I had so many questions.)

• Clara name-checks her kissing pal Jane Austen again.
• The Doctor pulls out his response cards that we saw in “Under the Lake” when he’s trying to break Rigsy’s impending death to him.

Emily Asher-Perrin gave herself a tear-induced headache. You can bug her on Twitter and Tumblr, and read more of her work here and elsewhere.

What is HBO trying to tell us with this first teaser poster for Game of Thrones season 6?

That it’s premiering in April—yes, we knew that part, April has without a doubt become Gird Your Loins for New Game of Thrones Month. But what is a bloodied Jon Snow doing on that poster? Could the rumors of his death be greatly exaggerated?

HBO, you sly minx. There had better be more hints coming to get us through the winter.

As a chill comes over New York we thought it would be a good time to round up all of our winter titles in one place. Below you can see all the novellas and novels that Tor.com Publishing will be bring out January though April. (As always, we will continue to publish free short fiction weekly.)

It’s an exciting season for us–a little scary, a bit futuristic, sometimes funny, often adventurous, and always (we hope) compelling.

All titles will be available world-wide in print, ebook, and audio. Most ebooks are priced at 2.99 (or the equivalent.)

The Drowning Eyes
Written by Emily Foster
Illustrated by Cynthia Sheppard
Designed by Christine Foltzer
Available January 12

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What is it about?

When the Dragon Ships began to tear through the trade lanes and ravage coastal towns, the hopes of the arichipelago turned to the Windspeakers on Tash. The solemn weather-shapers with their eyes of stone can steal the breeze from raiders’ sails and save the islands from their wrath. But the Windspeakers’ magic has been stolen, and only their young apprentice Shina can bring their power back and save her people.

Tazir has seen more than her share of storms and pirates in her many years as captain, and she’s not much interested in getting involved in the affairs of Windspeakers and Dragon Ships. Shina’s caught her eye, but that might not be enough to convince the grizzled sailor to risk her ship, her crew, and her neck.

Patchwerk
Written by David Tallerman
Illustrated by Tommy Arnold
Designed by Christine Foltzer
Available January 19

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What is it about?

Fleeing the city of New York on the TransContinental atmospheric transport vehicle, Dran Florrian is traveling with Palimpsest-the ultimate proof of a lifetime of scientific theorizing.

When a rogue organization attempts to steal the device, however, Dran takes drastic action.

But his invention threatens to destroy the very fabric of this and all other possible universes, unless Dran-or someone very much like him-can shut down the machine and reverse the process.

Lustlocked
Written by Matt Wallace
Designed by Peter Lutjen
Lizard photograph © shutterstock
Cover illustrations © Getty Images
Available January 26

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What is it about?

Love is in the air at Sin du Jour.

The Goblin King (yes, that one) and his Queen are celebrating the marriage of their son to his human bride. Naturally the celebrations will be legendary.

But when desire and magic mix, the results can be unpredictable.

Our heroes are going to need more than passion for the job to survive the catering event of the decade!

A Song for No Man’s Land
Written by Andy Remic
Illustrated by Jeffrey Alan Love
Designed by Christine Foltzer
Available February 9

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What is it about?

He signed up to fight with visions of honour and glory, of fighting for king and country, of making his family proud at long last.

But on a battlefield during the Great War, Robert Jones is shot, and wonders how it all went so very wrong, and how things could possibly get any worse.

He’ll soon find out. When the attacking enemy starts to shapeshift into a nightmarish demonic force, Jones finds himself fighting an impossible war against an enemy that shouldn’t exist.

A Song for No Man’s Land is the first in an ongoing series.

The Ballad of Black Tom
Written by Victor LaValle
Illustrated by Robert Hunt
Designed by Jamie Stafford-Hill
Available February 16

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What is it about?

People move to New York looking for magic and nothing will convince them it isn’t there.

Charles Thomas Tester hustles to put food on the table, keep the roof over his father’s head, from Harlem to Flushing Meadows to Red Hook. He knows what magic a suit can cast, the invisibility a guitar case can provide, and the curse written on his skin that attracts the eye of wealthy white folks and their cops. But when he delivers an occult tome to a reclusive sorceress in the heart of Queens, Tom opens a door to a deeper realm of magic, and earns the attention of things best left sleeping.

A storm that might swallow the world is building in Brooklyn. Will Black Tom live to see it break?

The Absconded Ambassador
Written by Michael R. Underwood
Cover art and design by Peter Lutjen
Available February 23

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What is it about?

Fiction is more important than you think. When stories go wrong, the Genrenauts step in to prevent the consequences from rippling into our so-called real world.

When a breach is discovered in Science Fiction World, rookie genrenaut Leah Tang gets her first taste of space flight.

A peace treaty is about to be signed on space station Ahura-3, guaranteeing the end of hostilities between some of the galaxy’s most ferocious races, but when the head architect of the treaty is unexpectedly kidnapped, it’s up to Leah and her new colleagues to save the day.

At any cost.

The Devil You Know
Written by K. J. Parker
Illustrated by Jon Foster
Designed by Christine Foltzer
Available March 1

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What is it about?

The greatest philosopher of all time is offering to sell his soul to the Devil. All he wants is twenty more years to complete his life’s work. After that, he really doesn’t care.

But the assistant demon assigned to the case has his suspicions, because the philosopher is Saloninus–the greatest philosopher, yes, but also the greatest liar, trickster and cheat the world has yet known; the sort of man even the Father of Lies can’t trust.

He’s almost certainly up to something; but what?

Forest of Memory
Written by Mary Robinette Kowal
Illustrated by Victo Ngai
Designed by Christine Foltzer
Available March 8

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What is it about?

Katya deals in Authenticities and Captures, trading on nostalgia for a past long gone. Her clients are rich and they demand items and memories with only the finest verifiable provenance. Other people’s lives have value, after all.

But when her A.I. suddenly stops whispering in her ear she finds herself cut off from the grid and loses communication with the rest of the world.

The man who stepped out of the trees while hunting deer cut her off from the cloud, took her A.I. and made her his unwilling guest.

There are no Authenticities or Captures to prove Katya’s story of what happened in the forest. You’ll just have to believe her…

Pieces of Hate and Dead Man’s Hand
Written by Tim Lebbon
Art by Gene Mollica
Designed by Christine Foltzer
Available March 15

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What is Pieces of Hate about?

During the Dark Ages, a thing named Temple slaughtered Gabriel’s family. A man with snake eyes charged him to pursue the assassin wherever he may strike next, and destroy him. Gabriel never believed he’d still be following Temple almost a thousand years later.

Because Temple may be a demon, the man with snake eyes cursed Gabriel with a life long enough to hunt him down. Now he has picked up Temple’s scent again. The Caribbean sea is awash with pirate blood, and in such turmoil the outcome of any fight is far from certain.

What is the free bonus novelette Dead Man’s Hand about?

In the wilderness of the American West, the assassin is set to strike again. Despite his centuries-long curse, Gabriel is still but a man, scarred and bitter. The town of Deadwood has seen many such men… though it’s never seen anything quite like the half-demon known as Temple.

Every Heart a Doorway
Written by Seanan McGuire
Cover designed by Fort
Photos © Getty Images
Available April 5

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What it is about?

Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children
No Solicitations
No Visitors
No Quests

Children have always disappeared under the right conditions; slipping through the shadows under a bed or at the back of a wardrobe, tumbling down rabbit holes and into old wells, and emerging somewhere… else.

But magical lands have little need for used-up miracle children.

Nancy tumbled once, but now she’s back. The things she’s experienced… they change a person. The children under Miss West’s care understand all too well. And each of them is seeking a way back to their own fantasy world.

But Nancy’s arrival marks a change at the Home. There’s a darkness just around each corner, and when tragedy strikes, it’s up to Nancy and her new-found schoolmates to get to the heart of things.

No matter the cost.

The Emperor’s Railroad
Written by Guy Haley
Art by Chris McGrath
Designed by Christine Foltzer
Available April 19

Pre-order Now: iBooks | Kindle | Nook

What is it about?

Global war devastated the environment, a zombie-like plague wiped out much of humanity, and civilization as we once understood it came to a standstill. But that was a thousand years ago, and the world is now a very different place.

Conflict between city states is constant, superstition is rife, and machine relics, mutant creatures and resurrected prehistoric beasts trouble the land. Watching over all are the silent Dreaming Cities. Homes of the angels, bastion outposts of heaven on Earth. Or so the church claims. Very few go in, and nobody ever comes out.

Until now…

And the first thought is wow.

And the second thought is: I didn’t think the Marvel Cinematic Universe was allowed to make anything this good. Or this female-focused.

The first season of Jessica Jones dropped on Netflix this past Friday, November 20. At thirteen episodes, each just under an hour long, it’s based on the Alias comic book series by Brian Michael Bendis and Michael Gaydo, and credits Melissa Rosenberg (Twilight, Dexter) as its creator and showrunner. (Its executive producers also include Liz Friedman, whom some of us will remember, before her work on House and her Emmy for Orange Is the New Black, for her work on Xena.) Several of its directors and writers are also women. This might explain why, watching it, I enjoyed the novel experience of watching a superhero show that didn’t punch me in the face with how much of an afterthought it considered me as part of its audience.

It may be the best thing ever to come out of Marvel for the screen.

There’s no real point to discussing the plot, at this point: it feels like everyone knows the outlines. (Editor’s note: But if you do need a plot refresher, check out Tansy Ranyer Roberts’ review of episodes 1 and 2.) And what makes this new superpowered setup come to life is, after all, the characters: Jessica Jones, fatalistic, alcoholic, really very noir private investigator, whose speciality is pushing people away and pissing them off—although she can deploy social skills to get the job done—haunted by several different kinds of guilt and trauma; Trish Walker, the best friend who refuses to let Jessica push her away but also calls her on her bullshit, radio talkshow host whose perfect image conceals a troubled childhood; Jeri Hogarth, the shark-in-a-sharp-suit lawyer who’s fallen in love with her young beautiful secretary and is divorcing her doctor wife; Hope, the young woman compelled to commit a horrific act whom Jessica is determined to save; Malcolm, Jessica’s addict neighbour who turns out to have hidden depths; Simpson, a cop with a mission and a very black-and-white worldview; Luke Cage, bar owner, man with impenetrable skin, man with a past occasionally hinted at—and even Kilgrave himself, a very human selfish monster.

There are five things I really liked about this show, aside from the characterisation, dialogue, and really excellent narrative tension.

1. There are so many “unlikeable” women—like Jessica and Jeri and the other participants in her divorce drama. But they’re people, not shallow caricatures: they’re allowed the virtues of their flaws, and it makes them more interesting, more compelling, as human beings.

Jeri Hogarth: You need to pull yourself together. You are coming across distinctly paranoid.

Jessica Jones: Everyone keeps saying that. It’s like a conspiracy.

2. Abusive behaviour is never treated as unexceptional. No one suggests that what happened to women under Kilgrave’s control wasn’t rape. When a particular character becomes threatening and controlling towards another character, she’s not shown as somehow overreacting to want to avoid him, or draw a boundary where he doesn’t get to pretend everything is all right. No one, not even Jessica, suggests that some of the shit Jessica pulls on the people around her is okay.

3. The sex shown on this show actually looks sexy. Like the kind of sex humans might actually want to have and might enjoy having. (Also, is television allowed to show a man going down on a woman? That is sort of unprecedented in my television-watching experience.)

4. Jeri Hogarth, Wendy Ross, and Pam: the lawyer’s disintegrating lesbian marriage and her relationship with her secretary normalises queer relationships in a way that SFFnal television (hell, television in general) usually shies away from. The characters in question are all fully-rounded human beings, and though the viewer knows acrimonious divorces rarely end well, they end badly in ways that aren’t uniquely queer tragedies.

5. Female friendship. The core emotional relationship in this show is the friendship between Jessica and Trish. The trust. Trish is the only person to whom Jessica shows more than drunk and guilty emotional vulnerability. Trish is the person Jessica goes to for help. And Jessica, in turn, is the person Trish trusts with more than her life. Their friendship plays a key role in the show’s climax—and I confess, I crowed at the screen, quite literally whooped, when it paid off.

That’s what you call narrative payoff, people.

Jessica Jones made me cry, because I expected it to let me down, and it didn’t. It’s a hell of a show. Well worth watching.

Liz Bourke is a cranky person who reads books. She has recently completed a doctoral dissertation in Classics at Trinity College, Dublin. Find her at her blog. Or her Twitter.

Welcome back to the Rocket Talk podcast!

This week’s episode features fantasy and science fiction authors Kate Elliott and Emma Newman. Having read both of their most recent novels, Justin asks them about what it’s like to write aged characters and what kinds of resistance exists in society to hearing those stories. They also discuss the rarity of anxiety disorders in fiction.

Kate Elliott is the author of twenty five novels including the recently released Court of Fives, Black Wolves, and The Very Best of Kate Elliott. Visit her website or find her on Twitter. She lives in Hawaii.

Emma Newman is the author of four novels, including the Split Worlds series from Angry Robot Books. Her newest novel, Planetfall, came out November 3 from Ace Roc. She is also a professional audio book narrator and co-writes and hosts the Hugo-nominated podcast Tea & Jeopardy, which involves tea, cake, mild peril and singing chickens.

Rocket Talk Episode 69 (49:13)

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Also! If you have an idea for an episode of Rocket Talk or would like to come on as a guest, reach out to Justin Landon at justin.landon@gmail.com. Obviously, we can’t accommodate everyone, but we’re always looking for new ideas and fresh perspectives. You can find all of the episodes of Rocket Talk on Tor.com here.