Widely acclaimed as a novelist, here Nicola Griffith displays her power, precision, and clarity of thought in multiple modes and forms.
Known for her gorgeously supple prose that soars effortlessly over genre boundaries, Griffith is also an incisive essayist whose ground-breaking, data-driven work on gender bias in the literary ecosystem sparked self-searching conversations worldwide. In this heady mélange of essays, poems, art, and stories—some seen here for the first time—the author makes foundational assertions about love versus ownership (“Wife”), advocates for the writer as explorer (“ It Burns”), and points out the gaping hole in our literary landscape where we’d expect to find disability fiction (“Overwriting the Old Story”). These and other public-facing essays are followed by four powerfully intimate poems. Returning to prose, Griffith immerses us so seamlessly in her viscerally imagined fiction that we feel how it is to be hurled like light through the stars in “Glimmer,” hunted through the urban alleys of “Cold Wind” during a holiday blizzard, swept along irresistible currents of “Down the Path of the Sun,” and, in “Many Things in Dumnet,” a novella published here for the first time, brought ashore as a stranger to land where something is very wrong.
Finally, “Otherwise Unremarkable,” series editor Nisi Shawl's interview with the author, teases out sometimes startling and always satisfying answers to questions on power, activism, immigration, cognitive poetics, and art.
Nicola Griffith has won the Los Angeles Times' Ray Bradbury Prize, the Society of Authors' ADCI Literary Prize, the Washington State Book Award (twice), the Nebula Award, the Otherwise/James Tiptree, Jr. Memorial Award, the World Fantasy Award, Premio Italia, Lambda Literary Award (6 times), and others. She is also the co-editor of the Bending the Landscape series of anthologies. Her newest novels are Hild and So Lucky. Her Aud Torvingen novels are soonn to be rereleased in new editions. She lives in Seattle with her wife, writer Kelley Eskridge, where she's working on the sequel to Hild, Menewood.
If you’ve never read anything by Nicola Griffith, this book might be a good place to start because it offers an overview of the way she approaches her writing and the whys of how she lives in this world. The most important thing to know about reading this author’s fiction and nonfiction is that there are no boundaries present. It’s going to be raw, might be brutal, but always true to the vision in her mind and spirit in whatever way that might mean.
The first few essays explore her drive to write, to create something visceral from nothing, the power of choosing words that will resonate with readers in surgically precise ways that will mirror what she aims to express. Other essays talk about the desert of published books featuring characters with disabilities (she was diagnosed with MS in 1993), rethinking the significance of the word “wife” in a Queer marriage, and a behind the scenes look at how she prepared for the epic Hild and its sequel Menewood, a fictionalized biopic duolgy about a real woman who lived in seventh century Britain. Some readers might especially be interested in her essay on the modern dilemma of author self-branding. The final nonfiction piece is an open letter to Alice Sheldon aka James Tiptree Jr and it made me want to cry for some reason.
Along with a few poems and drawings, there are also four short stories which cover a few genres, sci-fi, horror, spec-fic, and fantasy. They’re all sharply told and satisfying. Trigger warning for Down the Path of the Sun which has a group of women hiding out from gangs in a dystopian world. Gut punch. Lastly, author Nisi Shawl does a Q&A with Ms Griffith who answers honestly and offers insight into the world at large.
I recently read a political book about the misinformation campaign that has become prevalent over the last decade. The other author mentions the biggest harm has been to the fracturing of our shared reality as a society. I feel like Nicola Griffith also centers how vitally important connection and a shared reality are to creating community, how words and truth bring awareness of oneself and brings light on marginalized individuals, eliminating otherness. If you don’t get a chance to read this collection, try one of her many other books. Now I want to go back and reread all of them.
Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for an arc. I am leaving a review voluntarily.
Grand Master Nicola Griffith gets the Outspoken Author series book she deserves! As usual, this small book contains some non-fiction essays, some fiction, and an interview with the author.
Two things stood out for me. One, the essays are largely about her efforts to showcase the representation of disabled people in fiction. She points out the ableist paradigm that has disabled people serving as a plot device for the able-bodied characters. She makes the interesting comparison that disabled representation in fiction is where LGBTQ representation was 60 years ago. So there is room for improvement and plenty of hope and willingness to make it so.
I can't emphasize enough how strong and clear a voice Griffith has for non-fiction essays. It reminds me somewhat of Le Guin's work in discussing the role of women in fiction, and the purpose of fantasy. I would like to see more of Griffith's opinions about the realm of fiction and the representation of disabled characters and the participation of disabled writers.
The other thing that stood out to me was the longest fiction piece in the book, an original story titled 'Many Things in Dumnet'. This is a wonderful fantasy piece that describes a young woman's journey to a strange city, the challenges she encounters, and the role she plays as a bard to right the wrongs and build a legacy. The language is lush and evocative. It reminds me of Griffith's other excellent novella, 'Spear'. It's that good. As an original piece it would be eligible for awards for 2026, but I wish it could be exposed to the wider audience than this little chapbook. This story alone is worth the cost of the book, and for people unfamiliar with Griffith's work is a good introduction to her fiction.
A collection of amazing short stories, essays, and an interview with Nicola Griffith about her disability and how it shows up in her fiction writing. highly recommended read.
Deep thinking, challenging writing to truely grow your intellect. I love the author’s works, she makes an important contribution to fiction and non-fiction. Highly recommended. Thank you to the author. Thank you to #netgalley and the publisher for an ARC.
Thank you to Net Galley and PM Press for an Advanced Reader Copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
She is Here is a slim volume, the kind of book I’d normally read in two sittings. I stretched this one out a little though to make sure there wasn’t anything I’d missed, particularly the first third.
We open with a series of printed blogposts from Griffith, mostly first posted to her site in the early 2010s. To be absolutely clear, I think Griffith is a wonderful writer; her fiction is charming, toothy, experimentally rangy, excellently informed. If a copy of either Hilda or Ammonite hasn’t yet made it’s way on to your shelf, I encourage you to encourage them with all haste. The non-fiction here also isn’t badly put together – there is plenty of meat here for a daily blog post.
However, there’s no way that these could be considered essays; they are more musings, and not particularly in-depth ones at that. A Writer’s Manifesto is a nice little pep-talk, and a good showing of stretching one’s linguistic muscle before a creative session, but there’s not much more to it than that. Despite the title, it also isn’t a manifesto, as it doesn’t really present any ideas, but rather sentiments. Overwriting the Old Story makes for an insightful opener to a conversation about disability representation in fiction (particularly fantasy fiction, Griffith’s stomping ground). Her reflections on the origins of her own non-internalised homophobia in the same post, on the other hand, wouldn’t really past muster on a psychiatrist’s couch. In fact, there’s a lot in these non-fiction pieces that lacks much personal insight, which was jarring coming from someone who wrote something as reflective as Hilda. Branding: It Burns, for example, came off as a tone-deaf privileged gripe given Griffith’s place in the canon, and both My Story, Mystery and The Women You Didn’t See engage seriously with queer feminist discourse with about the same level of depth as your average YouTube video essay.
Again, these are not at all bad blog posts. I just wouldn’t expect them to make it into, say, a magazine column without some editorial pushback.
The next brief section in this volume is a handful of poems. These are likeable and accessible, and not at all bad, though I find myself struggling to remember any of them without referring to my notes.
The closing third of this book is a novella, Many Things in Dumnet, and this feels like the real reason this volume was published. At forty or so pages, it’s unlikely to see itself in ink anywhere else, being both too long and too short for contemporary tastes. Which is a shame; it’s a solid piece of mythic fantasy. I was surprised to see it hadn’t previously been published. It has the same unself-conscious English hippy texture as stories by Mercedes Lackey, Robin Hobb, Patricia A. McKillip. Griffith’s 1990s Emma Donaghue cohort roots are on full display here, and her economical dark-fairytale lands with the gravitas and faerie grace it deserves. Whilst I don’t think it’s the best example of the genre by far, I enjoyed the feel of dwelling for a little while in that weird, Gaelic hinterrealm of pre-collapse fantasy.
Tucked away in the middle pages of the book are three short stories, all reprints. Cold Wind is a sexy myth-meets-urban fantasy set piece. It’s fun, and quick, and doesn’t outstay its welcome: it makes for fine padding in a book of short fiction.
The real crown of this volume is the dozen or so pages that contain the other two stories, which are the only pieces that really live up to the punch and promise of Griffith’s longer work. Glimmer is a delirious science fantasy prose poem about the ache of hope in the face of bodily pain, about being anew into your own flesh, about the deal you make when choose to move forward in your own skin. It’s absolutely gorgeous. In fact, Griffith has a recording of herself reading it on her website, and I strongly suggest, whatever your feeling on this volume or her oeuvre in general, that you take the time to listen to it.
Down the Path of the Sun is an apparently old short story, bleak and bright in equal measure. Here, Griffith reflects on the guilt and betrayal and sense of abandoning that comes from being queer and childless: about community, harm, safety, and the violent rites of gender. About what is lost when you let yourself love and hope for love in a landscape that has no field for you. I don’t know what else to say about this. It hit close to home, and it hit hard, and it hurt to read, and I read it thrice. I’ve written “apparently old” for two reasons. Firstly, despite being first published 35 years ago, I’ve never come across it before, though I’m certainly not afficionado of Nicola Griffith’s work. And secondly, this feels like a very contemporary piece of fiction, both stylistically, and in terms of its preoccupations.
And that’s perhaps one of the most striking features of this little collection. That almost none of it does feel very contemporary. Rather, there’s the nostalgic kick of the nineties-esque urban fantasy stories, or there’s the extremely 2010s safe politics of the opening blog posts. But almost all of this book seems to belong to a past era, and an era not so far past that we can really begin to reflect on its meaning. Something that’s just a very little bit out of date. Besides that, and the fact that all these pieces were written by Nicola Griffith, I’m not actually altogether sure what any of them are doing in print together. There isn’t much of a throughline, and they don’t appear to really be in conversation with one another. Some of them might be better placed if they were in conversation with their own comments section. This sounds harsh, harsher than I mean it to be, but I cannot think of any other way to phrase the feeling this book left me with. A missive from a different era of fantasy, that got just a little lost in the post.
Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this eARC.
Nicola Griffith’s She Is Here (Outspoken Authors Book 34) is a bold, multifaceted collection that fuses fiction, essay, and conversation into a meditation on identity, resilience, and the power of storytelling.
🌌 Part of PM Press’s Outspoken Authors series, the book brings together a novella, a personal essay, and an in-depth interview with Griffith. This triptych format allows readers to experience her voice in different registers: imaginative, reflective, and conversational. The result is a layered portrait of an author who refuses to be confined by genre or expectation.
🧩 Content
- The Fiction: Griffith’s novella showcases her gift for immersive world-building and emotional precision. Characters are drawn with complexity, and the narrative probes questions of embodiment, agency, and transformation.
- The Essay: Here, Griffith turns inward, exploring lived experience, disability, queerness, and the intersections of personal and political identity. Her reflections are candid yet lyrical, offering insight into how life informs art
- The Interview: The dialogue format highlights Griffith’s sharp intellect and wit. It provides context for her creative process, her views on representation, and her commitment to challenging cultural assumptions.
Across all three sections, the recurring theme is presence—what it means to be fully seen, fully heard, and fully alive in a world that often marginalizes difference.
⚡ Griffith’s prose is elegant and uncompromising. Whether she is crafting speculative fiction or dissecting social realities, her language carries both clarity and emotional weight. The book resonates as both art and manifesto, urging readers to consider how stories shape our understanding of self and society.
📚 She Is Here is a declaration. It affirms Griffith’s place as a writer who blends craft with conviction, and it invites readers to engage with literature as a space for empathy, resistance, and transformation.
She Is Here is a powerful, genre-defying work that celebrates Nicola Griffith’s voice in all its dimensions—imaginative, personal, and political. It is a book that lingers, challenging readers to rethink what it means to inhabit the world boldly.
Nicola Griffith does not fuck around. Especially with her prose. She is brilliant, bold, unflinching, and unsparing. She tells you that (in her own words) she will own you, at the beginning. And she delivers. This was a fascinating collection that includes essays, art, poetry, fiction, and interview with Nisi Shawl (who I was lucky enough to hear talk about this series at Wordcon! Another author who does not fuck around).
In the non-fiction section, I most appreciated A Writers Manifesto, a perfect start to set the tone for the book. Writers will probably get the most out of Branding: It Burns, describing what it was like to publish Hild. I wish I’d already read it and now I really need to.
Of the fiction, I LOVED the Dumnet story. Five stars for the power and magic of music, and a deep immersion into a fantasy world. I really wish Down With the Path of the Sun came with a trigger warning (the brutal aftermath of a violent act is depicted, for those who want to know). It makes more sense based on her interview after, but was very jarring.
Finally, the interview was a treasure. What a treat to see into the mind of a brave visionary who probably wouldn’t call herself that. It’s really worth a read.
Thank you to Netgalley and PM Press for an eARC in exchange for an honest review
“When I write, dear reader, I don’t want to build a careful tale for you to discuss with a smile in a sunny place, I want to own you.”
I can’t even remember how long ago I first read Spear, but that book marked the beginning of my love for Nicolas writing and a realization of just how powerful, daring, and different storytelling can be.
Nicola Griffith writes worlds where women and femme-read characters stand at the center. One of the strongest examples is Ammonite, a world made entirely of women. But what I love most is her attitude toward queerness:
“The protagonists of my novels are queer women… their bodies are sites of delight rather than difficulty. The protagonists are queer but the story isn’t about being queer because, to me, queerness is an old story, long sorted.”
She Is Here, a collection of essays, poetry, fiction, and visual work, feels like an intimate portal into the breadth of her voice. It’s a stunning mix, not just for understanding Nicola as a writer, but for understanding Nicola as a person a bit better. There’s something uncompromising and provocative in her tone; she speaks with a clarity and directness you simply cannot look away from.
“Writer. Queer cripple with PhD. Seattle & Leeds.”
Her unapologetic visibility resonates deeply with me. Calling herself a cripple, speaking openly about disability, especially her experiences with MS hits a place in me I rarely see reflected. Two texts in particular address disability, and I found myself so understood in the way she writes about her body. It felt like thinking beside someone rather than reading from a distance. It’s grounding. It creates space. At least, for me, it does.
But beyond those personal highlights, the collection also offers powerful reflections on creativity and craft. What does Nicola want her writing to do? And how does she make it happen? Her academic background shines through in the most charming way (“mirror neurons”) giving the whole book a quiet intellectual depth.
Three pieces especially stayed with me: Overwriting the Old Story, Branding: It Burns, and Many Things in Dumnet.
In Overwriting the Old Story, she describes knowing she was queer from a young age yet still internalizing the worldview of the people she grew up around. One night in a queer bar, watching two men kiss, she felt a flash of disgust and instantly rejected her reaction.
“I was appalled. And felt ridiculous: a homophobic lesbian.”
What struck me was the sheer force with which she confronts injustice, both in herself and in the world around her. She refuses to let harmful narratives live unchallenged.
Branding: It Burns unpacks the messy tension between art and marketability the exhausting expectations placed on authors (and creatives in general). She illustrates this through the reception of Hild, a historical novel that many refused to see as anything but SFF because of her previous work:
“Branding. It’s a brutal word for a brutal practice: a label burnt into the hide without permission […] an animal that belongs to a herd. Yet to create art the Artist must be as free as possible from the herd mentality (…)”
Her thoughts here are razor-sharp, and honestly fascinating.
And Many Things in Dumnet? Oh, this one! I love this one dearly! We follow Anya, a bard in a fictional land that feels a bit like Scotland, slowly rotting from within. The religion, the politics, the essence of the place unfold quietly, piece by piece. It carries the spirit of an old tale, a classic hero’s journey, but the same time totally different with Anya at the center, it feels refreshing and alive. The diversity in the characters she meets, the way they love, the bodies they inhabit, the subtle magic woven into the world… it’s incredible how immersive it all is despite the short length. I always finish it wanting to stay longer.
It also echoes a line Nicola once said about Hild:
“I’m tired of the master story, his story. I’m tired of our story, my story, being a mystery. […] By reclaiming the past, retelling it to include women (and disabled people) as people, I’m remaking the present, and, I hope, changing the future.”
Many Things in Dumnet shows how immersive and atmospheric her storytelling can be.
I’m not sure I managed to capture just how much this collection means to me, but truly, I’m blown away. There is so much here to think with, rethink, and sit with. And thanks to the variety in form and rhythm, it’s an engaging, vibrant, and surprisingly quick journey.
I’ll close with one last quote, because it encapsulates the heart of Nicolas writing and what she demands of herself and her craft imo:
“Stories help us empathize. Without them, we lose sight of who we can be.”
I requested She is Here from Edelweiss in advance of publication because I had read this author a long time ago, and thought I'd like an anthology of Nicola Griffith's work.
It turned out that I liked this anthology, but didn't love it. I would grade it B which would be three stars on Goodreads.
I received a copy of this from Netgalley in exchange for a review.
She is Here is a collection of writings and essays by and interviews with Nicola Griffith. Like most collections and anthologies, it has its highs and its lows. Personally, I found the pieces about Griffith more interesting. I liked looking at who she is as a person.
I greatly enjoyed the book's structure. There are three notable sections: short stories, essays, and an interview section, where we learn more about Griffith's thoughts on writing. She is Here is a wonderful collection where Nicola Griffith documents who she is as an author.