J.S. Fields

Author & Scientist

Review: The Silences of Ararat by L. Timmel Duchamp

Genre: contemporary fantasy / contemporary dystopian

Pairings: f/f

Queer Representation: cis bisexual / cis pansexual (unclear narratively)

Warnings: none

Review

Paulina is a sculptor in a sort of THE HANDMAID’S TALE type dystopian future, where the ultra conservative faction of the USA has splintered off (Congress of Christian American States), elected a king, and follows ‘Christian’ teachings. Her husband, the king’s advisor, has gone missing and is presumed dead, leaving liberal Paulina only her sculpture by which to show her dissent.

Queen Hermione is everything a conservative king could want – beautiful, kind, doting, and able to hang on his every word without punching him in the face.

I have to admit, the branding of her image, combining “white” purity with womanly fecundity, revolted me. In person, though, I barely noticed it, distracted by the glimpses I began to see of an intensity I’d never before noticed. Those glimpses intrigued me. Maybe, I thought, there was something below the surface of wifely perfection composed of expensive grooming and constant deference to her husband and his most trusted advisors. Hermione was, after all, an actor. It was just possible she was consciously playing the role of the young third trophy wife and not merely following the script without noting she was doing so.

The king’s paranoia drives him to eventually accuse Hermione of adultery with his brother, and the ensuing trial and altercations result in the deaths of her two children and, as far as the public knows, of Hermione herself.

Paulina is the rescuing sort, turns out, and through using her innate magic to turn living things into sculpture, she fakes Hermione’s death, rescues the queen, and sequesters her in her own house. Romance blooms, the two women plot a delicious revenge on the king, and general emotional turmoil ensues.

The thought of her life as one of unending loneliness made me want to cry. “For godlike, love. That’s not what I meant when I talked about your needing to be strong.”

She took my hand and brought it to her cheek. “You are so good to me,” she said. “Better than I deserve.”

In that moment, Hermione’s entire attention was fixed on me in a way I hadn’t before experienced. The intimate intensity of her gaze kindled a dozen small flames licking at my skin that the sensation of my fingers on her face fanned into a blaze. To conceal what I was feeling, I pulled her close in a hug. “You don’t deserve to be lonely,” I said. “You don’t deserve to be abandoned.”

I began to pull away, only to be engulfed in confusion as her lips nudged mine and her fingers stroked my neck, feeding the conflagration of my most sensitive nerve endings. I had thought my sexuality desiccated and frozen, my heart petrified into stone. But my heart now beat so powerfully that I was suggested with heat, and the pulse in my vulva beat so strongly that I could no longer think.

Out of all the Conversation Pieces by Aqueduct Press that I have read, THE SILENCES OF ARARAT is definitely in the top five strongest installments (nothing will ever evict any of the Lucy Harper books from my heart, and the one about the girl journeying through the underworld still makes me smile). The narrative is strong and tight, with little fat and solid character development. The author spends enough time developing Hermione and the king that, when the inevitable betrayal occurs, it is both expected but still heart wrenching. The slow build up to the revenge, coupled with the romance arc, made the book a quick, delightful read.

The nonlinear narration did make the first half of the book confusing, though its a novella so the confusion was short lived. By the end of the book I didn’t mind it at all, although it makes me unlikely to reread.

For a fun dystopian with a satisfying revenge plot, you can join up with Paulina and Hermione to take down the king by buying the book here.

Review – Threadbare by Elle E. Ire

Genre: science fiction: dystopian

Pairings: f/f

Queer Representation: cis lesbian, cis bisexual

Warnings: on-page, plot irrelevant rape scene

 

Review

Vick is more machine than woman, due to a fatal evening with some coworkers and having inadvertently signed her body away to the military upon her death. Kelly is an empath assigned to work with Vick to help channel emotions she can no longer control.  Vick has a lot of missing memories, Kelly has a lot of questions, and the military has a lot of operations that require a super soldier. Unfortunately those suppressed memories of Vick’s keep turning up and leading to rage, which compromises both the missions and Vick’s usefulness.

The military wants Vick alive but emotionless. Kelly wants Vick naked and in control of her life. The Fighting Storm organization is crumbling from the inside and it is up to Vick and Kelly to figure out who is out to get them, before Vick destabilizes and takes Kelly down with her.

So.

This book.

Premise: fun-super soldier with suppressed trauma needs an empath handler. It’s a natural romance opportunity. The first chapter has solid tension and a seemingly decent plot. Vick is pretty easy to like, and Kelly fleshes out the more you read. Nice start.

Everything unwinds around chapter three. Nonlinear timelines between chapters don’t help, and neither does the flimsy plot, which does not stand up to even a gentle prodding. Fighting Storm is a pseudo-military organization that helps people with their (violent) problems and maybe also is a government entity. The plot tries to establish and then gets repeatedly back-burnered by the romance arc, which starts and stops more often than my car. On the plus side, there’s some psychic sex scenes, which aren’t too bad:

 

Oh holy hell.

I was the reason she hadn’t satisfied her sexual needs, the reason she was so overwhelmed she was practically ready to explode and had to hold herself in check.

If she’d touched herself, I would have felt it. I would have known exactly who and when and how. Yeah, that would have been awkward for both of us.

 

Kelly gains three dimensionality as Vick looses hers–a function of the choices Vick makes, yes, but not helpful for the narrative. And at the end we get treated to an on-page rape scene which serves no narrative purpose except tittilation, then a plot/romance conclusion that is not at all satisfying (first part below so you can get the flavor of it):

I clench my jaw as he slips the carving knife under my collar and rips downward, slicing through both my envirosuit and the uniform beneath, all the way to my waist. Another flick severs my bra between my breasts, and the material falls away, baring me to his insane leer. My nipples harden to a painful state as the chill hits them. A glance down his body tells me they aren’t the only the only things that have hardened.

This is the first in a trilogy, but I won’t be reading the others. The book had a lot of promise and a very nice set up for a romance, but the plot was far too flimsy and on-page rape scenes are a big no for me. There were some solid sci-fi elements, but not enough to drive the narrative. I felt like the book tried to walk a 50/50 split between romance and sci fi, and failed to meet the trope expectations of either.

You can have telepathic sex with a hot android lady by buying the book here.

Review: City of a Thousand Feelings by Anya Johanna DeNiro

Genre: fantasy: dystopian

Pairings: f/f

Queer Representation: trans woman

Warnings: none

Review

In a short story spanning thirty years, two trans women are outcast from The City, a place where emotions can become physical manifestations. They return in an army to take the city, face numerous hurdles, and eventually battle necromancers for control of the place they yearn to belong, but can never again be a part of.

I… don’t really know how to review this book. It’s short, only 81 pages long, and in those 81 pages the author attempts to set up thirty years of epic fantasy. It’s so bare bones in places as to be comical, but the emotions are dead-on.

“They even convinced me, when I was young, that I would be able to find a home with them. I threw myself in my training, but I started to realize that–I was not a boy. And they made me feel like that was the most horrible thing in the world.”

This isn’t a book to be read for the setting or fantasy elements. It’s a book to be read for the connection to the trans women who are both literally and allegorically searching for a place of their own in a society that wants nothing to do with them.

The strongest aspect of the book is the critique on lesbian culture. Trans women are too-often excluded from lesbian and wlw spaces, and the book hits this issue on the head in this scene, where the women are returning to the city that exiled them for being trans:

Most of these are monuments to women in love with each other, which might have been found “safe” and unremarkable in a more serene time. Love that is pure and unassuming and forced to die by exposure.

Bits of queer community elements can be found in the book as well, such as here:

When women like us start out, it’s easy to fall for someone who’s further ahead on the (more or less) same journey. It’s often mistake for romantic love, but that is rarely the case.

My favorite section of the book is the end, where a strange little bit of poetry adds to the worldbuilding. Of particular interest:

In Mystery’s old village, before she was stolen by the corpse-mongers, children are born with two souls, with one sacrificed to the forest goslings. Mystery’s pretty sure they screwed up.

A complicated (sometimes too much so–it took me three weeks to finish this 80+ page book) read, the trans narrative and struggle for acceptance in CITY OF A THOUSAND FEELINGS will resonate with  trans readers, as well as anyone who has lost acceptance over an innate aspect of their being.

You can buy CITY OF A THOUSAND FEELINGS here.

 

Review: Lucky 7 by Rae D Magdon

Genre: science fiction: dystopian

Pairings: f/f (could also be classed as f/nonbinary, the character in question hasn’t quite decided)

Queer Representation: cis bisexual, asexuality, trans, nonbinary

Warnings: none

Review

There’s nothing in the world as good as making a beautiful girl come.

Jacker Elena is on the run from AxysGen after the death of her crew during some ‘illegal’ activity.

Handler Sasha, an operative team leader, just lost her jacker and the rest of her crew in a botched operation. She can’t find a crew without a new jacker, and Elena needs a place to hide, STAT. AxysGen has a hit out on Sasha, too. If any of them are going to survive, they need to be deleted from AxysGen’s databases. And they can’t do that without a jacker. Or Sasha’s crew.

Elena and Sasha must work together to find Sasha’s crew and prevent AxysGen from finding Elena. The deeper they get into the the virtual world, however, the more layers of AxysGen peel away and the more Sasha’s past, including her ex-girlfriend, come back to haunt them.

LUCKY 7 is a fast paced dystopian sci-fi novel that starts with action on page one and does not let up. Unfortunately the action comes at the steep cost of stakes and character buy-in, and the first third of the book is entirely skimmable. The gems of attraction between Sasha and Elena are well done, but do little to progress the narrative forward. Elena’s character is poorly developed, as is her motivation, and Sasha’s ice queen attitude leaves her functionally emotionless.

The book takes a hard right turn at the one third point, with a steamy shower sex scene that breaks through our ice queen’s exterior and gives the reader some much needed emotional interplay. There’s consensual power play here, too, and it is hot as fuck. The book is worth buying for the sex scenes alone (there are three!).

But something in me wants to fight. To push back against her dominance, to show her I’m not just some warm body she can bruise because she hates me. I need her to fuck me, but she doesn’t get to unless I fuck her back.

~~

Somehow, I know I’ll never tire of bringing her over the edge. “Come for me,” I growl into the dip of her collarbone, close enough for her to feel my lips on her skin. “I want you to come for me.”

Halfway through the book changes POVs from Elena to Sasha, and it is at this point that the narrative takes off. Sasha’s POV is rich and complex, and the reader cannot help but be fascinated as she learns about her forgotten past, her relationship with her ex, Megan, and the secrets behind the ship’s AI. With an emotional hook, the storyline and plot pack a punch. The stakes raise, the crew becomes more three-dimensional. You care about Sasha. You root for Sasha. Sasha is the ideal unreliable narrator.

The A plot, of Elena running from the evil corporation, takes a quick backseat to the B plot of Sasha’s origins and the motivations of Megan. The B plot is by far the stronger of the two. Megan is the perfect villain–delightfully self absorbed with just enough humanity to make her relatable. The clone situation is excellent, the AI a delight, and Sasha, again, steals the show.

Another bonus: the representation in the book is phenomenal. Elena is Mexican (with brown skin), Sasha is black, and the richness of Elena’s background comes through in so many fantastic phrases and snippets of history. There is no white default in this book-white people are described via skin tone upon first introduction as much as the numerous people of color.

“If anyone tries to speak to you, let me do the talking,” Rami mutters from the corner of their mouth. “Just give them a white people smile.”

“The close-lipped ‘I acknowledged you, now please go away’ gringo smile?”

“Exactly.”

The trans rep, in particular, really struck a chord with me. One of the crew is trans, but it is the exploration of Sasha’s gender identity that was the most compelling. It is rare to see a true exploration of the nonbinary experience in queer fiction. So much is either a nonbinary person just being a person and having adventures, or being a side character. Sasha’s explanation of her gender, and Elena’s intuitive understanding, cemented their relationship as one of the best I’ve read in lesbian fiction. In a culture where the butch identity was long used as a dumping ground for both gender and gender identity, having one branch explored at length, and with deep sensitivity, was absolutely amazing.

I know from her smile that she’s joking, but my confidence falters. I know what Elena wants, but I’m not sure I’ll be ante to give it to her. I’ve got baggage around sex, around trust, around my body, and although I feel good in my skin tonight, I can’t guarantee she’ll get the results she wants, no matter how hard she tries.

~~

My face heats up. I’ve tried thinking about it that way sometimes, more often before I bought my first prosthetic. Once in a while, it works. Usually it doesn’t. There are aspects of womanhood I still connect and identify with, but my parents aren’t one of them. And even thought I know all too well that body parts don’t make a woman, being touched that way feels…vulnerable. In a good way, on some occasions, but more often in a not-good way.

~~

Once my hands are dry, I consider what to do about my swimsuit. The decision to pull down my trunks is an easy one, but my top is more difficult. It bares my midriff, but keeps my chest fairly flat. The look of hunger that takes over Elena’s face is enough to tempt me out of it. Her dark eyes have zeroed in as I pull it off, and her tongue leaves a glistening line on her lips as she wets them. I’m naked, but thanks to her admiration, I don’t feel overexposed.

~~

It’s a feeling of freedom, of knowing I can fly without the fear of falling. It has everything to do with the face that it’s Elena between my legs.

She’s memorized more of me in a few weeks than other people have bothered to learn in years, and I actually feel comfortable enough to teach her. It’s different. Powerful. A little scary. Bit it’s also all kinds of good, and I know I’d be a fool to give it up. I’m not even sure I can.

You can find your own curvy hacker in paperback here and ebook here. Consider supporting an independent bookstore by buying it here.

 

Double bonus: this scene

“You blew up the front door,” Rami yells back, taking the steps two at a time.

“Because I love you,” Cherry hollers. “Even though you left me in Brazil!”

“How do you run so fast in heels?” I gasp as I stagger down the front steps. I don’t know how Sasha finds all these magical bitches who can run ops in perfect makeup and designer shoes, but if I wasn’t terrified of dying, I’d be jealous.

 

And the best description of this particular flavor of bisexuality to date:

“Not my type, kid. I like pretty boys with long eyelashes and girls who look like they could step on my windpipe with their jackboot and make me thank them for it.”

Review: Compass Rose by Anna Burke

Genre: science fiction – dystopian, pirate, lesbians on boats

Pairings: f/f

Queer Representation: cis lesbian

Warnings: implicit racism in the narrative, racist language not refuted in-narrative or by authorial voice

Review

The year is 2513. The apocalypse came and flooded the Earth. Land is scarce, the navy rules, and most people live on boats, either as part of a naval force or as a pirate.

Rose is a member of the Archipelago fleet (a navy fleet). She’s a big rule follower, clearly likes in-charge women, and doesn’t mind the company of the ladies. When Admiral Comita sends her on a daring mission – to infiltrate the pirate ship Man-O-War, Rose has no option but to accept.

And oh, lesbians. This is the pirate ship of your dreams. It has a hot lesbian pirate captain. It has a ragtag crew. It has danger! Power play! Hot kissing scenes! Seeeeeecrets! Racism!

Damn it.

This could have been the perfect book. And it almost was. God, the chemistry between Rose and Miranda is hot. HOT. Their eventual sex scene will leave you unable to work for the rest of the day. You will. not. recover. There’s political intrigue and beautifully rendered worlds and three-dimensional characters. There are Lesbians. On. Boats. I mean, I literally don’t know what else to ask from a book, except maybe that it check its implicit and overt bias at the door.

So, let’s lay it out, incident by incident.

Our opening scene is Rose being assaulted by Maddox, a large, brown man.

I didn’t have to look far. Maddox’s large bulk towered over me, a bead of sweat dripping from his crooked nose to the floor….Maddox’s chiseled chest glistened in the light of the bioluminescence, the genetically modified algae that flowed through the light tubes of the ship casting blue shadows over his brown skin. I entertained myself with a fantasy of plunging several sharp objects into his over-developed pectorals, but kept my mouth shut.

Unsurprisingly, the skin tones of the white characters are seldom, if ever, noted (our MC is brown skinned as well, which is noted early in the book. Annie, a secondary character, is noted as having ‘dark’ skin. These are the only skin descriptors we get. I am left to assume all other characters were walking skeletons with some musculature, and no skin at all). This is known as white default. But more of an issue is the trope of large, black and brown men, especially very toned ones, being a threat. I could link about this ad nauseum, but here is a good place to start. This is another beautiful article.

So, we started the book off on the wrong foot. Sometimes things get better! Sometimes it’s just the one instance and the rest of the book is fine.

Sometimes it gets a lot worse.

On page 33 (print edition) we get our first racially-charged descriptors.

He had a flat face with a flatter nose, and his dark hair was slightly gray at the temple. The woman beside him was only slightly less intimidating, with biceps that were at least as thick as my thighs.

And I might have ignored it except we don’t get a name for said character right away, and by pg 35 we get:

“Are you a navigator or an engineer?” Flat Nose said with a sneer.

And it continues for several pages. Flat nose, of course, is a racial description for black people and some Asian people. Adding to the flat face makes this a clear Asian stereotype with very unfortunate implications. There are so many better ways to describe people of color that don’t involve radicalized, weaponized descriptors. Writing With Color is always a great reference, and great place to start.

And it’s just…so infuriating because this is otherwise such a monumentally great book! How can you not love a pirate captain who spouts lines like “I could take you any way I wanted you.” I mean, yes, please. Please.

Finally, we have our villain, Ching Shih.

Yup. Not even going to bother with a link on that one.

The fundamental difference between implicit bias and overt bias is that overt bias comes with intent while implicit does not. Not having intent, however, does not absolve someone of the damage caused from racism, whether implicit or overt. The coding, both implied and implicit, of all the major ‘problem’ characters (Maddox is brown, a stuffy, gruff guy is Asian, the biggest ‘villain’ of the piece is also Asian) is a bad trend. Yes, our MC is also brown but with the white default at play, we are still in a very white world, where most of the PoC are villain coded.

And that’s not okay.

So while this book could have easily been absolutely magnificent, and in many ways it was, that doesn’t mean we should overlook the bias, or not discuss it. PoC deserve to have representation in books, and they deserve that representation to be good representation, where they get to play the full spectrum of roles, from villain to hero and everything in between. The queer community has been active for years in discussing queer-coded villains and homophobia. As a community we owe it to our intersectional queer people, and the PoC community at large, to voice our concerns over other forms of bias, not just the ones that affect the white parts of our community.

You can purchase COMPASS ROSE and try to navigate the minefield of bias to get to the freaking amazing sex scene here.

 

 

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