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Oct 22, 2024 | 
nzherald.co.nz | Octavia Cade
Alan Moore: Most effective in his portrait of a hopeless loser. Photos / supplied Book review: There are a lot of stories about London in World War II: the Blitz, rationing, evacuations. People coming together to defeat a common enemy. These stories are nation-building and they all end with a single phrase: “We won.” Then life goes on, and the stories become more tentative. There’s less of the victory march in them.
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Oct 1, 2024 | 
clarkesworldmagazine.com | Octavia Cade
We get used to what we have.
Sometimes what we have is right in front of us, actively acknowledged and purposefully interacted with. Sometimes it’s background noise: useful, even appealing, but so consistently present that we think it will always be there. It’s a shock to discover that one day it mightn’t be, or that it’s disappeared while we weren’t paying attention. Worse . . . that it disappeared while we were.
There’s a lot disappearing around us right now.
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Sep 9, 2024 | 
strangehorizons.com | Mary Lee |Jan Cronos |Octavia Cade |Ali Householder
The fields unplowed, the cars at rest,no rush to school, no changing shifts,but as the Earth turns round to faceeach post-apocalyptic dawna chorus breaks from shore to shore. No spoken word, nor beat of drum,nor flute, nor grand orchestral score,but as the Earth spins into daythe birds all pause to sing in praiseof rain and sky, of egg and nest.
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Aug 30, 2024 | 
strangehorizons.com | Octavia Cade |Non-FictionA Hugo Award |Gautam Bhatia |Angela Liu
John Wyndham (1903-1969) is one of my very favourite authors. I have a lot of his books on my shelves, so when I was offered this new collection to review I grabbed it with both hands, confident that I’d already read most of it. That proved to be the case—only one of the stories here was new to me. That’s because, as the book cover tells us (albeit in smaller font), this isn’t a new collection at all.
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Jul 16, 2024 | 
strangehorizons.com | Leyla Guirand |Steven Archer |Mary Lee |Octavia Cade
The potion queen is vapor, unquenchable, emergent in absence against the roseate dawn, resurrecting from the paucity, torrentially abounding. She burnishes her prized vocations, fashions the ice crystals into semblances, talismans, crescents, amidst the idols of speaking tides, the obsessive beasts eulogize, pearls command the sky in hushes, the blush unceasing, she, numb in her construct, frosted, replete, inhabiting dreams.
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Jul 16, 2024 | 
strangehorizons.com | Steven Archer |Leyla Guirand |Mary Lee |Octavia Cade
Half-painted in the angled mirror, I ignore my mother’s calls and sweep blush onto my temples. The face of Luz Divinity takes shape beneath my brush. My mother tries again as I tug a wig onto my shaved head, the unit sleek and long, and again as I zip a vinyl bodice over my chest, false cleavage contoured on. I almost let the call expire, answer on the last ring, then shrug the phone against my cheek to wash lipstick swatches from the back of my hand. “Allô, Ma.” The water runs sunset colors.
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Jul 16, 2024 | 
strangehorizons.com | Mary Lee |Steven Archer |Leyla Guirand |Octavia Cade
Low Owl, Gutter Eagle,Corvid, Hawk, Heron, Jay—Who stitched our nerves? Who gave us words? The dialects of Gooseall honk and hiss and huff—Who built the cities? Who extruded roads? Whistle Thrush, Kestrel,Common Condor, Toucan—Who chose who spoke? Who silenced the sparrow? The scratchmark and scuffof Sandpiper slang-sign—Who lifts the tides? Who steers the stars? Vatic Vulture, High Grouse,Stork, Crane, Pigeon, Budgie—Who emptied the cities? Who broke the Moon?
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Jul 16, 2024 | 
strangehorizons.com | Octavia Cade |Steven Archer |Leyla Guirand |Mary Lee
I don’t have children. I feel that they would interrupt my reading time. A houseplant is easier. Less rewarding, perhaps, but it’s unlikely to intrude upon my hopeless attempt to devour every book on Earth before I die. Nor, if A Botanical Daughter is anything to go by, will I find it necessary to provide said plant with a roster of victims so it can murder them all. No, I take it back. A houseplant is not always easier.
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Jun 11, 2024 | 
nzherald.co.nz | Octavia Cade
"For all the grief and bloodshed, there’s something glossy and superficial here." Photo / Supplied Book review: War is a waste. It’s a waste of people, it’s a waste of resources, and still we justify it to ourselves on grounds that may or may not have any reasonable validity. Part of that judgment is surely cultural: is this principle worth dying for, worth killing for, or would another response be better?
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Mar 31, 2024 | 
nzherald.co.nz | Octavia Cade
The Last Murder at the End of the World: "A fantastic puzzle box of a book". Photos / Supplied There are 125 people at the end of the world, and one of them is dead. In the more dystopian apocalyptic narratives, that loss might be primarily one of capacity: losing the only remaining doctor, or the one person left who can keep the power plant running. Niema’s murder does rob the remaining community of its leader and one of its only scientists, but the other loss is almost more profound.
