Many years ago, in Days of Yore, I read The Funeral March of the Marionettes in an issue of Fantasy & Science Fiction and I was bowled over, just flat-out in love with this poignant, heart-wrenching story. Recently I wanted to revisit it, and was able to procure a pricey, used copy of this collection of Adam-Troy Castro's novelettes/novellas (never entirely sure when one ends and the other begins), containing that story, and its loose sequel, The Tangled Strings of the Marionettes. Some context around the first story's title: it's a direct reference to "The Funeral March of a Marionette", an orchestral piece written in 1872 by Charles Gounod, but is probably best recognized as the theme music from Alfred Hitchcock Presents. It's also an alluring name all by itself, appealing to our human curiosity. Why would a marionette need a funeral? The story is about a race of beings on their own home world, called the Vlhani, who appear as large spheroid beings covered in long tentacles that act as legs and arms and general tools for communication. Every year, several thousand Vlhani voluntarily gather in one location and perform a frenzied dance that ends in all of their deaths from tentacle lashings, dehydration, and utter fatigue. Other sentient species come to watch the spectacle. Eventually, a single human attempts to take part, having been surgically altered to move her body in ways that more closely match the movements of the Vlhani. The viewpoint character of this story is one Alex Gordon, a human stationed on the Vlhani's home world. He is horrified when he realizes there's a human milling about with the gathered Vlhani and the story takes off from there. Re-reading it all these years later (about 24?), I found myself far less moved than I had been when reading in my late 20s, and I don't know why. Have I lost some amount of creative connection with what I was reading? Has the pandemic and the march of time stripped me of some imaginative empathy? I don't know the answer, but I was really disappointed by that realization. The other stories in this collection were equally immersive, but while I enjoyed them, I didn't have that same fervent reaction I'd had in the 90s. I do think it's more a me-problem than the fault of these stories. I do recommend this author highly still. I want to mention one other story here before I sign off: The Magic Bullet Theory is worth a read by anyone who has a soft spot for weird Western-themed stories (like myself).