"Playful and provocative . . . McCombs’s mix of heart and zany ideas is often reminiscent of George Saunders. Readers will find plenty of earthy and unearthly delights." — Publishers Weekly
“I have been waiting for this sumptuous, prismatic collection for literal years. Theodore McCombs is a poet of queer pasts, presents, and futures, and Uranians is a formidable debut.” —Carmen Maria Machado, author of Her Body and Other Parties
At the end of the Victorian era, a handful of public intellectuals advocated for tolerance of the “Uranian”—a man who loved other men. Some went so far as to propose that these “intermediate sexes” might, in fact, constitute a totally different species, even serve as intrepid guides in our march toward an uncertain future.
The five speculative stories in Theodore McCombs’s kaleidoscopic collection span several possible worlds, teasing the boundaries between coexisting realities and taking up the question of queer difference from one surprising vantage after another. In “Toward a Theory of Alternative Lifestyles,” a heartbroken gay man waits in line at an exclusive Berlin rave promising visions of parallel lives across the multiverse. In “Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women,” at the turn of an alternate 20th century, a policeman’s wife feels that if you want an execution done right, you just have to do it yourself. And in the operatic novella “Uranians,” an expedition of queer artists, scientists, and one trans priest embark on a lifelong interplanetary voyage that requires them to renegotiate their connections to a remote and hostile Earth, while keeping their ship’s biome—and each other—alive.
Each story unfolds with the depth and complexity of an entire universe; each is inhabited by characters learning to divest from a society that has marked and rejected them. Discerning which dreams of Western civilization to hold fast to and which to leave behind, these outsiders set their gazes on new horizons and prepare for the changes to come. Arch but tender, clear-eyed and compassionate, Uranians brilliantly illustrates the vital role that queerness plays in every possible version of our world.
I liked parts of this collection, but I feel like it never really went as far as I wanted it to go.
Uranians consists of 4 short stories and a novella, all of which in some way or another incorporate a speculative or science fiction element. "Six Hangings in the Land of Unlikable Women," I think, is the most effective of the stories in exploring the possibilities of this element. It's set in an early 1900s America where all women have, inexplicably, become impossible to kill--a fact that has evidently not stopped the men in their lives from attempting to kill them. I thought this premise and the way that McCombs executed it was just fascinating (if, perhaps, a little underdeveloped). Another story I loved was "Lacuna Heights," which follows a lawyer as he slowly begins to realize that his brain implant is interfering with his memories (it reminded me a lot of the Black Mirror episode, "The Entire History of You"). Theodore McCombs works in environmental law, so it's no surprise that this story was a compelling look at how law can intersect with memory, and the lengths to which we're willing to go to efface--or try to efface--the things that feel too overwhelming for us to process.
Beyond these two stories, though, I felt largely indifferent to this collection. The first story, "Toward a Theory of Alternative Lifestyles," was interesting, but I didn't like "Talk to Your Children About Two-Tongued Jeremy"--its premise felt flimsy and overblown--and the titular novella, "Uranians," I thought was convoluted and meandering. Here's the thing: on a sentence-by-sentence basis, McCombs is an excellent writer, but structurally, a lot of his stories just try to do too much. The stories will make reference to obscure physics or musical theory and, sure, sometimes I like it when authors incorporate these kinds of elements into their stories, but here it just took up too much narrative space and was far too complicated for the average reader to understand (at least this average reader). I found this to be a major issue in "Uranians," where there are pages and pages of the narrator talking about this opera and its music--all sections that I just completely glazed over because they felt so beyond me.
Overall, not bad, but not especially impressive. I'll keep an eye out for more works from this author though.
Thank you to Astra House for providing me with an eARC of this via NetGalley!
I picked this up on a whim and I’m pleased (it’s a 2.5, yes). I’m not a short story girlie and I don’t think the queer/feminist stories in Uranians were spectacular, but they did what they wanted to do. They didn’t work for me but, again, it’s rare for me to enjoy short fiction. The ideas were fine and the writing was nice, but there was way too much detail and I got distracted by that all the time.
- "Toward a Theory of Alternative Lifestyles”: a heartbroken gay man waits in line for a Berlin rave promising visions of parallel lives. I found this boring and pointless, the discourse about gay men who want a relationship vs gay men who want to just fuck around was there, short and to the point, but otherwise I don't think I got anything else from this story. (The "they keep talking about someone named Paco!!" "I'M PACO" was hilarious).
- “Lacuna Heights”: this story explores the idea of going on ‘private mode’ in real life and the rights the government could have in accessing your memories (in a criminal case!). This was really cool. I liked the “forgetting is a human right” bit. I also want justice for poor Andrew who was running on a treadmill and his partner stopped him to scream at him, let people run in peace dude.
- "Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women”: something about women not being able to die or something? I read it today and I forgot it already, always a good sign. Straight men suck I guess?
- “Talk to Your Children about Two-Tongued Jeremy”: a story about AI and how it affects children. It didn’t work for me, it sort of felt like it was just written because of that last scene with the rabbit and the twins?
- "Uranians": an expedition of queer artists, scientists, and a priest embark on a lifelong interplanetary voyage with no goal other than going up there and dying. It was just okay. The emphasis on opera didn’t really work for me but I appreciated that these queers were just leaving behind an Earth that saw them as deranged. The stuff about the ship failing and yada yada was interesting but, again, the writing just had so much details I got lost in that and forgot what I was supposed to be reading.
As always, 2.5 rounded down because I just don't think I'll remember these stories next week.
In a collection of speculative fiction written by an environmental lawyer, “Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women” was conceptually the most interesting. Even with the technically fresh focus on consumer legal protections and regulation within the tech industry, though, some of these still end up feeling like Black Mirror re-hashes. Two-Tongued Jeremy the evil Duolingo owl was like…You know. He was an evil Duolingo owl.
The titular “Uranians”, which takes up the back half of the book and is clearly the artistic centerpiece, should’ve been either shorter or longer. It felt like queer Battlestar Galactica in a way that I can’t 100% rationalize, except that I didn’t like BSG, but I know plenty of people who do.
Okay, between my love for 2020's Ministry for the Future and Ned Beauman's Venomous Lumpsucker, which I read back in March, and now this, part of me is like, waaaait, omg, am I a cool sci-fi girly now? *tucks hair behind ear* I guess "speculative fiction" is maybe a more apt term. All I know is that I'm over here trying to write quick reviews for the twelve books I've read over the past two months, and the one that has taken up the most space in my brain is this one.
While I was reading this collection, I paused to write a note that just said how exciting it was to read something so good, something that makes me want to go Google the author and read interviews with him and spend more time with him. I did, of course, and in something called Nightmare Magazine, McCombs talks about short stories in a way that really resonated with me: "You look up from the last page, twenty minutes later, and you’re not where you were, or who you were, when you read the first line. Novels can be just as transformative, but unless you’re a much faster reader than I am, there isn’t that shock of rejoining the world." The shock of rejoining the world. That's what I felt after reading each of these.
Of the four shorter stories, "Toward a Theory of Alternative Lifestyles" was my favorite. The intersection between class and sexuality. The tension between radical queer culture and a calm life that feels almost like assimilating or selling out. I need someone else to read this story so we can talk about the finches!
"Lacuna Heights" had Severance/Parasite/Us vibes, but I loved all of those, so I'm not mad about it. I loved the worldbuilding in this one.
"Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women" made me think a little of Naomi Alderman's The Power but, like, with a more depressing ending with women contributing to rather than rebelling against patriarchal, state-sanctioned violence. The loss of agency in the final moments.
"Talk to Your Children about Two-Tongued Jeremy" is the most Black Mirror but gave me literal goosebumps while I was reading it late at night. Duolingo plus the increasing pressures of the school system and the ambition fueled by capitalism.
And the novella! I think about "Uranians" all the time. The protagonist writes operas and will continue to do so during the mission to see (not settle, just see!) the planet Qaf. I don't know anything about opera, but I love how McCombs talks about it and the queerness inherent in its lack of shame: "Opera is unembarrassed in its ambitions, and I want my fiction to be that way too."
At this point, I have an urge to use voice-to-text to add a four-page excerpt to this review, but I will get a grip and just read it aloud to my husband later. I'll add this much shorter quote instead from one of the protagonist's communications home. After discussing complexity and unpredictability in music, he says he has been monitoring how the woody plants within the space station's biome need some unpredictable stressors to grow strong: "And to extrapolate wildly, isn't that what queerness is to the broader human community -- an asymmetry, a bit of chaos to nurse the beauty of life into its tallest flowering?" (123).
The sort of collection that reminds me of the power of the short form in the hands of a visionary. All hits, no skips - but pride of place goes to the title novella, "Uranians," which follows an ensemble of friends and lovers on a queer worldship (but not exactly a worldship) hurtling away, away from Earth, kind of just because it's beautiful and strange to go. This novella, epic and generational in scope, kind of broke me. I read and I thought: How tragic it is ever to have lived. But also how tender.
I didn’t like these stories. If I hadn’t borrowed this from libby, I would want my money back.
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“It’s not the worst thing to grow up with a framework that mediates and organizes the world around you. If we break from those structures later, it’s only when the world has been made sufficiently intelligible for us to move on; its freedom comes to us late enough to see it as a choice, rather than chaos and emptiness.”
Requested from Netgalley almost entirely because of the enthusiastic blurb by Carmen Maria Machado, and at this rate I should keep an eye out for those because she's definitely steered me right. The title, shared with the last and longest story here, cleverly excavates an old name for homosexuals which also sounds right at home in science fiction*, and the collection opens with a quote from Edward Carpenter's 1912 The Intermediate Sex: A Study Of Some Transitional Types Of Men And Women about how "the superior types of Uranians – prepared for this service by long experience and devotion, as well as by much suffering – will have an important part to play in the transformation" of society. The first story gestures at continuing that theme with the high-minded title Towards A Theory Of Alternative Lifestyles. In reality it's about the argument between confrontation and assimilation, and about realising you're not quite matched to the person you love, reified and dramatised through Collider, a Berlin club so achingly cool you can glimpse parallel worlds there. It's an instantly seductive notion even before you realise how well theme and expression have been matched, with the many worlds interpretation explained thus: "Observation doesn't collapse the alternatives so much as pair off the observer with the particular value observed, like dance partners waltzing off in one direction, while in a parallel reality, the observer pairs off with a different partner in another direction." But even for the sort of reader less likely to be seduced by Stoppardian fireworks, there's the surface level of character, human emotions – you know, the less impressive stuff, but the things which can still banjax a story if they're done wrong. Here they work, the tension recognisable but not stereotypical between two men in something approaching love, one of whom is radically queer but where the other wants traditional romantic signifiers "not because he'd failed to grasp the false consciousness of the heteropatriarchy, but because he'd spent his life being shown and then denied this way of being in love, and now he was a grown-up, and he could get the things he saw on TV." It's not that it's the newest idea in the world to talk about how liberationist Discourse can become one more cage, but what I really liked was how perfectly unresolved it leaves its answer to the question "Is it so wrong to want to be normal?"
Next up, Lacuna Heights feels much more straightforwardly Black Mirror, and even more so like Severance – or so I assume, having never seen Severance (maybe I should say, having so far as I know never seen Severance?). A lawyer fights a case regarding the privacy mode on a neural implant – a mode where even the person themselves doesn't know what they were doing while it was activated. And then realises he is himself experiencing missing time, and unexplained deductions from his account... The rough shape of the solution is fairly obvious early on, and the concept probably works better as a metaphor for the things we all force ourselves to ignore to not go insane from living in a fundamentally horrific system than it does as plausible worldbuilding, but its vision of a world limping on in much the same fashion despite how much has "disappeared into the rising, dying ocean" still lingers. Of course, these days the amount that's survived obliges me to characterise it as an optimistic vision.
Six Hangings In The Land Of Unkillable Women is the sole historical tale, set in the wake of the Protection, whereby at some point in the nineteenth century, women mysteriously became immune to male violence – a situation which, like any apparent panacea, inevitably brings its own problems, even before you consider the awkwardness of a society and era still determined on making pious reference to the Weaker Sex despite increasingly glaring evidence to the contrary. Finally, for the shorter entries, the fabulously titled Talk To Your Children About Two-Tongued Jeremy. Back in Black Mirror territory, but for me more powerfully than Lacuna Heights, this is a story for all the people I know who've said that they worry their relationship with the Duolingo owl has become abusive. I'm sure it's an incredibly efficient generator of tech anxiety even if you have the sense not to read it with a New Year's Day hangover like I did.
Finally, the title novel (which will doubtless be widely referred to as a novella, but I shan't hold that against it), which starts out looking like a fairly straightforward generation ship affair, except maybe that a little more work will be required on creating those generations given the crew we see are mostly gay. This turns out to be precisely the point: the mission is not one of colonising the destination exoplanet, but simply of investigating it, sending a team of scientists and artists to report back to Earth, rather than mess it up. A plan which has gone down about as well as you'd expect on an Earth which is at least making faltering steps to rebuild its battered biosphere, rather than gaily chucking petrol on the flames as we currently are, but otherwise hasn't changed as much as one might hope, if one could still hope. So instead of descendants they've got some extra time, thanks to the wonderful device of anti-ageing tattoos. Which, isn't that just instantly more interesting than pills or surgery or the usual approaches? Not least in the way so many choose patterns to remind them of the world they've left behind, which then fade out in patches as the crucial vitacene is absorbed. The story is the work of someone who sees the alternative a sort of flying queer commune might offer to the workaday world – but also of someone who's seen queer communes in practice, with all the drama, forgotten chores and "rows of earnest pansexuals in loose-fitting tops" they entail. It also engages in a way surprisingly little SF does with the sheer headfuck of being out there in the dark, so far from home, with no way back – which often only gets treated as a threat once something goes wrong, but which would surely be a lot to cope with even on a mission going more or less to plan. Once again, theme and plot and character are braided together expertly; I don't want to give away any of the ups and downs, but put it this way – looking at my Christmas and birthday book haul, my one worry was that it was all short stories and non-fiction, and I felt like I needed a substantial novel for variety before I was quite in the mood for any of them. Something chewy, with scope and scale and ideas, tragedy and bittersweet triumph. Well, this one may scrape in under 120 pages, but it's absolutely scratched that itch.
*I'm reminded of the early Zelazny novel in which humanity exists in an uneasy state of detente with the Vegans.
I was not impressed with this collection of stories but that may be because I am out of touch with the field of 'speculative' fiction. I don't read this sort of fiction with any regularity and what reading I did years ago might not even qualify as 'speculative' for younger readers and authors. A larger problem, for me, as a reader based in the UK, is not that the concerns of young Americans are different to those of young people in Europe or elsewhere but that the way they approach enviornmental, dystopian or even gender stories is alien to our understanding. It is not that there are not climate change deniers and the like but it is, at the moment a fringe. The idea of using the 'socialist' ideas of a politician's father as a way of denouncing them is risible. There are people against abortion but it is impossible to concieve of a reversal to abortions availibilty such as the overturning Roe v Wade in the USA has caused. There is debate over many gender issues but there is not any chance of 'religious' fanatics from any of middle easatern sky god religions influen cing legisklation based on their idiotic books of revelation.
To be blunt I find McCombs writing to be hopelessly USA-centric in that it never seems to occur to him that if a dying world was to send a ship off into space, as in the longest story/novella 'Uranians' it is less likely that it would be the USA who would do so. Leadership in the world is passing away from the USA with a rapidity that is only concealed by Hollywood current dominance of pop-cultural products. As the vast majority of Americans get poorer they may no longer be the market to pander to. It may be the far more numerous and prosperous youth of India, China and the rest of South East Asia that the films, games and music are designed around.
In general I was disappointed that the only future Mr. McComb explores is that of his small very upper middle class characters, in stories like 'Lacuna Heights'. No real attention or thought has been given to the multitud, he acknowledges that the vast majority of people will be excluded but he doesn't semm to grasp how dreadful their lives will be nor that the lumpen proliteriat of the 21st century will not be anymore willing to remain outside the railings of the new 'Hameaus de la Reine' that the rich have built then they were in of past.
The same flaw can be found in the novella 'Uranians' where a group of 2,500 intellectuals, scientists, artists are launched into space on a near hundred year mission to travel outside the galaxy. He devotes a great deal of time to explaining about the 'eco' systems on board but he doesn't explain who cleans up by wipping the door handles clean, scrubbing the floors, tidying up the discarded coffe cups or emptying the bins. Nor does he attempt to explain how a space ship lived so heavily for eighty would survive without major refits. He doesn't seem to realise that modern materials, although superior in many ways, do have durability. You won't find a 500, let alone, 80 year old linoleum floor.
This lack of common sense also pervaded his 'alternate' history of the turn of the twentieth century in the USA (like all the stories there is recognition thay anywhere else exists) were it is impossible to kill women and somehow this has made the perpetuation of patriarchal world more possible. But why should it? Women were already fighting for the vote long before 1900, the territory of Wyoming granted female suffrage in 1869 and refused to abandon to become a state. Mr. McCombs has created an alternate timeline not to what happened but his own limited and ckiched novel of the past.
The only really interesting story, I thought, in the collection was 'Talk to Your Children about Twi-Tongued Jeremy' which is about both the corruption of our giant information companies but the world of child rearing in those affluent gated communities. While the nightmare of a bullying app is well developed the real nightmares are ignored.
I would have given the collection one star but it doesn't deserve to sit amongst the other books I have awarded one stat too. They are all horrors. It is better than they are but, overall, not very good and, in my view, ridiculously overpraised. If this is first rate speculative fiction it is not, sad or disappointing, but frightening. How far is this from the vision of George Orwell?! Shakespear denounced of money and power more effectively and Jane Austen took a sharper scalpel to the absurdities of patriarchal marriage customs then anything in this weak collection.
the only story I didn’t enjoy was Two Tongue Jeremy, which succeeded in making me feel sick but felt a bit out of place. everything else? love love love amazing debut collection. it was fun brainfood. you can’t half tell the author is a lawyer. also, i want a full length novel about Leo. just brilliant.
I was not particularly enamored with this collection, and that's coming from a reader who historically enjoys short story collections more than average. The individual entries are simply fine - I'm left with no lasting impression. Ask me in a week what these stories were about, and I wouldn't be able to tell you.
There's a notable lack of cohesion or throughline between the entries; you could argue that alienation and rejection are somewhat consistent themes, but none of the stories go anywhere exciting with them. I felt Lacuna Heights was the best story in the collection by far, but I don't know if it stood out simply because it's the only one that's not aggressively average.
I saw another reviewer call the eponymous novella meandering and convoluted, and I think that's a perfect description. There's simultaneously too much and too little going on - there are some interesting ideas and concepts, but because there are so many simultaneous ideas, it feels like everything gets a second in the spotlight before we move on. The random art and opera tangents felt dense and academic, and I struggled to see what they added to the collection. This entry either needed to be pared down to a short story or expanded into a standalone novel - the intermediate length leads to a clunky delivery, and it was tedious to sit through. I don't think a sci-fi of this scope, complete with world-building and technological advances, lends itself well to such a short entry.
I'm left scratching my head with this one. I'd be curious to learn more about some of McComb's inspirations or intent behind these stories, as after reading this jumbled collection of stories, I'm no closer to figuring it out.
Theodore McCombs’s Uranians is a brilliant book, travelling through the web of the lives of individuals, flowing in a parallel yet in a different stream of consciousness. The book is about a journey into self-discovery and acceptance of one’s existence.
It revolves around different stories. The author’s style of penning down these stories is highly appreciated. Peter, a gay in Toward A theory of Alternative Lives. His strangled thoughts, broken heart, his yearnings open a window for the reader to read between the lines. There is a lot of depth in each and every story. The language is approachable and understandable. Every story leaves one occupied in thoughts over thoughts. I will leave it to the audience to experience this feeling.
The book has a universal element in it. And it revolves around each character. One can feel something of seeking in the whole book. Seeking one’s destiny, the meaning of their existence in the universe, and the weirdness which encircles them. The book gets interesting when it comes to narrating about a few scientists, artists, and gay and trans people, set on a voyage to discover a different world. The character of Lana, Arrigo, Mike, and Father Leo is well narrated. Their struggles, thoughts, their different approaches towards life take the story through twists and turns.
It seems to the reader that Theodore has brilliantly delivered what he wanted in this book. The strangeness of it makes it unique. The intellectual approach towards new dimensions is worth appreciating. The book is recommended for a mature audience who can dig deep and understand various intellectual aspects narrated by the author. A good read.
I struggle to enjoy short story collections, so I made it my goal to read one this year. Uranians had a great title, a gorgeous cover, and a relatively intriguing synopsis—plus, it’s not very long—so I decided to jump in. Each story, of course, might be better or worse than those around it, so I’ll do individual reviews before a final one.
Toward a Theory of Alternative Lifestyles: the relationship tension was more interesting than the ~possibility of seeing other worlds. Given how much the latter actually played a role in the story, I feel like the narrative might agree.
Lacuna Heights: the ongoing mystery of what Andrew’s memory kept concealed and what was happening with his “Private Mode” ramped up in a thrilling way, and the visions of a dystopian future where your brain can be turned into a phone were appropriately bleak and menacing, but the conclusion was so underwhelming I almost wish it hadn’t been explained.
Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women: much stronger than the first two, especially in its ability to evoke emotion (I was disturbed by how men responded to the appearance of the “Protection” by enacting even more violence, as I should be) and the use of a unexplainable and ambiguous event to examine misogyny. However, it did feel wildly out of place with the other stories—why are we reading about magically realistic turn-of-the-century gender relations amidst these stories about technology?
Talk to Your Children About Two-Tongued Jeremy: the actual premise wasn’t very inspired (it’s giving Black Mirror episode), but the emotions of the narrative and the protagonist were engaging enough to make this story substantial. Like, it was ridiculous, but at least there was a story arc.
Uranians: the collection’s eponymous novella honestly surprised me by providing a genuinely emotional story at what felt like the right length for the topics and premise it explored. For better or for worse, I’m sensitive to the type of mortality-meaning-loneliness-connection storylines that pop up whenever you detach people from our world as we know it (think anything from Station Eleven to The Last Question), so this one was kind of bound to make a impression on me. It took the time to think through queerness, purpose, queer relationships, and existence when the parameters of existence are completely isolate and undone, and the balance of art/science/humor/wonder/pain was definitely a high point among all the stories in this book.
There were definitely times throughout the first stories that I thought I’d rate this at 2 stars, but the novella cemented a solid 3 stars for the whole collection. I think the author just needed some more room with the majority of the beginning entries to give a truly satisfying story. "Six Hangings" seemed out of place with the themes of the collection as the whole, which was unfortunate, because I think it's the strongest of the truly short stories. However, "Uranians" stuck the landing enough to leave a positive impression.
Thank you to NetGalley, Astra House, and Theodore McCombs for the eARC of this book in exchange for an honest review!
Uranians is a collection of stories that embody the essence of queerness and how the queer experience is impacted by various themes such as societal/familial values, technology, law, etc. Even when the characters themselves weren't queer, the message of each story still seems to apply to what it is like to navigate the world as someone who is.
I was immediately drawn to the concept, even more so when I discovered the glowing commendation left by one of my favorite authors, Carmen Maria Machado. Unfortunately, I do feel there was a gap between my expectations and the reality of the collection, but that is no one's fault but my own. There is no doubt that McCombs is a talented writer, but something about his style feels rather impersonal to me and prevented me from fully connecting with the material. Despite that, I still appreciated his style as I think it gave the collection a unique, eclectic feel that suits the content.
Each story is full of depth, with sci-fi elements that give the overall collection an interesting twist. Some were more compelling then others; "Six Hangings in the Land of Unkillable Women" and the title story "Uranians" really stuck out to me, whereas I found "Towards a Theory of Alternate Lifestyles" a bit lackluster.
McCombs also avoids the pitfall a lot of other authors do not when writing short stories: he manages to develop a well-written narrative where the ending seems satisfying despite not being entirely fleshed out in a full-length novel.
Overall, Uranians was a really enjoyable read despite my personal grievances and I would readily recommend it to whomever is intrigued by the concept.
READ IF YOU LIKE... • Literary fiction heavy with metaphor • Disturbing, Black Mirror-like scenarios • Explorations of queerness
I THOUGHT IT WAS... An imaginative set of short stories that examines othering, especially of queerness. From an aggressive tutoring app cyberbullying students to an expedition into deep space manned by queer artists and scientists, McCombs presents a profound series of stories with varying degrees of effectiveness.
While the first story in the collection felt weak, the others were built on fascinating conceits. They didn't come as cleanly together as I would have preferred, but I really enjoyed their rich symbolism and metaphoric commentary on elements of our society.
The last story, the titular "Uranians," is more novella in length and is particularly fascinating in its exploration of the "purpose" of queerness. Just as the characters in the story are on a voyage that largely will provide no benefit to people back on Earth, so too does the protagonist muse over why queerness persists when it provides no biological benefit. This story is a lot, overlaying science fiction with operatic music theory with the messiness of being human. There are also parts of it that felt too drawn out. However, the prevailing message of embracing and upholding queerness in the face of doubt and strife is strong and beautiful.
I am a sucker for Carmen Maria Machado pull quotes, and honestly, this didn't disappoint. Most of this book is the title novella, which focuses on the inhabitants of a long term travel space ship, all of whom are artistic and queer in various ways, and how their relationships with each other, their art, their destination, and each other all unfold as they make their way towards their new home. It's a pretty fantastic novella that is going to stick in my mind a while, and doesn't shove trans individuals to the side, and has the fun side effect of "shit what if you were stuck on a ship with your ex for the rest of your fucking life". There are also four short stories that are fairly solid - a club in Berlin that reveals alternate versions of your life, women who are unable to die, what if a privacy mode on an app was used to hide a horrible knowledge from yourself, and an education app replicating the experience of an abusive partner (this is the only one I'm a bit iffy about, as it feels like "oh what if technology could replicate an experience that women get to experience on the regular, spoooooooooooky". Still, overall, definitely a collection I'd recommend, and McCombs is someone I'll be watching.
I feel like if I described this book to myself in the past, I would probably assume that I would hate it, like 2/5 tops. And it’s definitely not perfect, but I really liked it. 4 short stories, plus a novella. Some of the short stories feel a little ‘Black Mirror-y,’ but I only really came to thinking of them that way after the fact, even though one of them is pretty clearly riffing on a meme from a few years ago. I only realized that after the fact because in the moment I was taken with them enough to just read, and I found the reading really enjoyable. The novella that gives the collection its name is just really clever. It’s basically a generation ship story inflected through the sort of queer theory that was in vogue in the early-to-mid-10s. It works well, though, and I’ll definitely be thinking about it for a while.
Three stars are just because I don't enjoy the form as much. I always want/need more, and short stories are simply too short. But do not let my rating deter you from reading the collection. There's not a bad story in it, and I especially enjoyed the last one - "Uranians" - not only it was the longest one, but because of the ideas underlining it (there's also a quote from Jack Halberstam and a mention of Foucault so it got my theoretical-philosophical juices going too). I particularly like how the story closed off the cisheterosexual reproductive horizon so thoroughly while it would've been easy to cave in and have a standard happy ending. This way we've got a happy ending as well but of entirely different, queer kind.
“A long time ago, Leo asked him how queerness propagates, and this is Arrigo's answer: aesthetically. Our thriving produces beauty and that beauty signals to others that there is life in this way of being. That's how we persist across generations, by inspiring others like us into self-honesty. So, it's important to show Earth that we're alive: look, it can be done, we got here, we are thriving, we love you, hello. Whatever struggles you're facing on Earth, look up. Behold.”
“We’re faggots. The world doesn’t have to be good for us to be alright.”
It’s truly a case of eyes bigger than your stomach. McCombs has such creative and intriguing ideas with a potentially impressive exploration of those ideas on his characters, but the short-story format doesn’t give any of that room to breathe. Each of the stories could have worked better as a novella, and the novella could have been a great novel. I’m excited to read a full-length project from McCombs in the future
all of the stories were phenomenal, but none more so than the title story— the queerest expedition into space, not just sexually, but wholly forming a queer existence.
mccombs plays beautifully with form, weaving opera and quantum physics into immersive internal world.
This was so good—the writing, the stories, the ideas, I loved it all. I am very impressed by how well each story was done, I never felt like one was derivative from the other (which is a problem that I feel lots of short story collections have). Theodore McCombs—you should be very proud.
This was one of those rare occasions where I loved every story in a collection equally. Each one forced simultaneous isolation and interconnection with society flawlessly. Thank you to NetGalley and Astra Publishing House for the ARC.
if carmen maria machado reviews something, i’m gonna read it. this was so good, i’m speechless. i haven’t really seen queerness presented this way in fiction and i love it so much. the title story was absolutely insane, one of the best i’ve ever read.