In the Lost Lands - George R.R. Martin

A more fantasy-oriented tale than In the Morning Comes Mistfall, though I must admit - having read a good deal of Martin's works - that he enjoys mixing different elements in his stories to obtain unexpected results.

I own the audio version for this one as well, again read by Claudia Black, who lends further depth and life to both characters and background.

Grey Alys is a witch - or better, an enabler: she always grants your wishes, no matter how outlandish. The problem is, you never get exactly what you hoped for...  When the powerful Lady Melange asks Grey Alys for the secret of skin-changing, the woman brings her back a white wolf pelt that will turn the fulfillment of the Lady's desire into an endless nightmare.

The ending of this story is suitably horrifying, even though much is left to imagination rather than detail, and yet that's not what matters here: the main body of the story concerns Alys' voyage into the titular Lost Lands, in the company of the mysterious Boyce.  The Lands are desolate, the mute testimony of a possible past cataclysm, and yet they possess a sort of savage beauty that can be appreciated only by people able to look beyond surface appearances. Re-reading this shortly after "Mistfall" I became aware of the thematic similarity about beauty being found in the most unlikely places, and it was a happy discovery.

Alys and Boyce share that same deceptive appearance: both of them holding secrets, both of them presenting ax exterior look that belies their true nature, they seem two of a kind, destined to a fruitful allegiance. As if often happens with GRR Martin's tales, what ultimately happens turns readers' expectations upside down, then tramples them in the mud... He does so in a masterful, spellbinding way, though, capturing the reader's attention through striking descriptions and a cunning build-up of tension.

Grey Alys shines throughout the story: her quiet, almost unassuming ways speak of untapped depths and dark secrets, and her calm detachment is far more chilling than outright malice. There is no open cruelty in her actions: she hastens other people's demise, or observes their unavoidable misfortune, with the same aloof calm she would display in accepting her own. Alys seems to know there is an unavoidable fate awaiting us all and she neither embraces or runs from it, allowing fate to play its cards: there is only one moment, near the end of her journey in the Lost Lands, when she - in the form of a magnificent bird of prey soaring in the air - utters a shrill cry in the silence of the Lands. Given the turn of events that transpired in the story before this moment, I wondered if it was a cry of victory or one of despair. It would work either way, and that's so typical of Martin, who often leaves us in the cold, wondering...

That poise, that confidence, is what makes Grey Alys different from run-of-the-mill "witch" figures, and singles her out from the narrative norm: her best, most telling image, is the one at the beginning of the story, where she sits languidly caressing a grey rat as if it were a common pet - alarming and at the same time unforgettable.

The Ghosts of Bourbon Street - Seanan McGuire

There are many advantages for writers when offering free samples of their fiction on a website: the most obvious one is that a potential reader can get a clear idea about style, genre and writing quality from those short glimpses into an author's craft - and of course that same reader can discover new books or a new genre he/she never approached before.  On top of that, the writer can expand on an already-established world, shedding more light on situations, or characters, that did not get enough exposure in previous books.

What Seanan McGuire does, besides all that, is open a door for new characters that might find their way into existing series, or start new ones: this is exactly what happens in this short story, set into the Incryptid universe and introducing Rose Marshall, the protagonist of her upcoming book Sparrow Hill Road.

Verity Price, the heroine of the first two Incryptid books, is on a long, roundabout journey toward her family's home where she's taking her fiancé Dominic to meet her parents. Since Dominic used to be a Covenant operative - which means he hunted the cryptids that Verity's family tries to protect - she wants to make matters easier by having Dominic meet other relatives first. And who better than her aunt Rose, ghostly hitchhiker?

Threaded by the tongue-in-cheek humor that is this series' trademark, The Ghosts of Bourbon Street takes us to New Orleans on Mardi Gras, on a journey through a city that's only visible to those who walk with ghosts, a parallel world with its own rules, laws and - of course - dangers.  Rose immediately appealed to me: tough, street-smart, sharp-tongued, she's a perfect addition to McGuire's parade of strong female characters, one I look forward to knowing better when her book will be available.

As for Verity and Dominic, it was fun to meet them again - I confess I missed them both in Book 3, where Verity's brother took center stage - and the quick cameo from the Aeslin mice was a very welcome surprise. The interplay between matter-of-fact Verity and straightjacket-stiff Dominic made for a few humorous moments, as did the renewed impression that the poor man will need all his inner strength to keep his sanity with the Price family.  Hopefully McGuire will show us more along the way.

Also... more mice, Ms. McGuire? Prettyplease?

My Rating: 7,5/10

With Morning Comes Mistfall - George R.R. Martin

This short story is part of the two volume collection Dreamsongs by GRR Martin, a sort of writing journey illustrated through single stories: the first time I became aware of With Morning Comes Mistfall was by listening to its audio version read by Australian actress Claudia Black - it was an incredible experience, both for Ms. Black's amazing performance and for my discovery of the lyrical side of George Martin's writing.

Until that moment I had only read his A Song of Ice and Fire novels:  a new (for me) way to present the fantasy genre, gritty and uncompromising in its depiction of violence, cruelty and bloody political schemes.    Even though the ASOIAF books do contain vivid descriptions, because Martin is indeed a masterful storyteller, I was not prepared for the emotional impact in his portrayal of Wraithworld: the author's skill in bringing these images into sharp focus is seamlessly matched by Ms. Black's rendition, enhancing the story's a magical quality that is perfect for the theme being developed here.  

Wraithworld is a place where mists rule the lower depths by day and rise to cover most of the mountain peaks by night, and those mists are said to be a shield for the Wraiths - dangerous creatures, as unsubstantial as fog, that prey on unwary travelers.  Much of the mystique of the planet comes from this mystery that also fuels a steady influx of tourists who lodge at Castle Cloud, an eagle's nest over the tallest peak dominating the sea of mists below.   Through the eyes of the narrator - a journalist who's come to Wraithworld to cover the scientific expedition bent on disproving the Wraiths' existence - we soon learn that what really matters is not that evidence but rather the beauty of the planet, something that catches the journalist by surprise as he starts exploring the place and lets himself be fascinated by its savage charms.

As I re-acquainted myself with the tale I saw how it fits the never-ending argument about speculative fiction: does it really matter whether a story is "true", meaning based on real, everyday facts, as long as it's entertaining and enriching? Over the years I've had to defend my reading preferences against this kind of argument: many people, some of them close friends, have commented with amused bafflement - or thinly veiled mockery - my penchant for reading science fiction and fantasy.  Their claim being that it's silly to lose oneself in stories about worlds, peoples and creatures that don't exist.

These skeptics' attitude is embodied, in the story, by the scientist Dubowski: he comes to Wraithworld with a plethora of scientific instrumentation that should help him vanquish the figurative mists clouding tourists' perceptions.  Proving that the Wraiths don't exist will - in Dubowski's eyes - shine the light of truth on the planet, freeing it from what he perceives as foolish superstition. The scientist is so driven by his goal, so fixed in his attachment to reality, that he never sees the natural beauty of Wraithworld, never wastes his precious time in watching the mists rise at night from the depths of the forests, or being vanquished at dawn when the sun rises revealing the mountain peaks.

I believe that as Dubowski willfully blinds himself to such beauty, so do those who are unable to accept the wider horizons of imagination, restricting their path to what's known and tangible and closing their eyes to what could be only because they can't touch, measure or weigh it.  There is a deep vein of melancholy running through this story, the sense of something precious being ignored and abandoned by the wayside: to me it means that when we forgo our sense of wonder, our willingness to ask ourselves "what if...?", we deprive ourselves of something vital that could only enrich us. 

In a way, it hardly matters if "magic" exists or not: what matters is that we believe in the possibility of it....