Ever since I was four years old, in 1972— before the merger of punk to steam, I wanted to be Captain Nemo. After devouring Verne and Wells, I discovered the Oswald Bastable trilogy by Michael Moorcock. Philip José Farmer further fueled my feverish pubescent imagination with such works as The Wind Whales of Ishmael and The Other Log of Phileas Fogg. I discovered there's more to science fiction than spaceships and robots in the future.

K. W. Jeter is usually credited with coining the phrase "steampunk" back in the early 80s. He, along with Tim Powers and James Blaylock, created dark versions of the Victorian Era, stocked with accelerated technology re-dressed in period appropriate materials with occasional supernatural elements. Morlock Nights, The Anubis Gates, and The Digging Leviathan all echoed the literature and feel of 19th Century and commented on society struggling to keep up with rapidly changing technology. With less doom and gloom than than its gleaming, black, low-slung sibling — cyberpunk — these speculations still offered cynical social commentary. The Good Old Days weren't all that great, and throwing a lot of shiny gizmos around will never fix the societal ills that confound us in any era.

I wasn't really aware of this trend in fiction until '91 when William Gibson and Bruce Sterling introduced the wider reading public to steampunk in The Difference Engine. Then, as Snow Crash did to Neuromancer, Neal Stephenson one-upped Messers Gibson and Sterling with The Diamond Age. It's just my humble opinion; this is a smarter and by far more entertaining novel. Stephenson turned the expected convention around, injecting Victorian styles and sensibilities into a future that enjoys nearly miraculous technologies. His novel examines the infamous repressive morality of that era as much as it explores the possibilities of nanotech. Michael Swanwick took a similar route with a far more playful tone in the ripping adventures of Darger and Surplus. I strongly recommend these ribald short stories — there is an excellent recent Swanwick collection from Subterranean Press and another, The Dog Said Bow-Wow, from Tachyon.

Also of note is Paul Di Filippo's weird and wonderful Steampunk Trilogy (1995). The first tale concerns a gentleman inventor and his remarkable amphibian prodigy involved in a royal scandal. "Victoria" fits most preconceptions of what a steampunk story is about: advanced retro-science and aristocratic adventures. The other two are more atypical but I adore Di Filippo's customary pop culture references and mashups at play in the 19th Century. Famed naturalist and racist asshole Louis Aggasiz visits the sleepy little fishing hamlet of Innsmouth? Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman explore the astral plane with Madame Blatavasky — and Allen Ginsberg has a cameo? Zany, clever stuff.

Even though steampunk lit has been around for a few decades now, it's increased rapidly in popularity the past few years. It has inspired other media as well as design and fashion to an eye-rolling degree. There are more steampunk novels than ever, although too many or not enough for some people. Here I'd like to share my thoughts on four of these with you, Gentle Reader.

The Affinity Bridge by George Mann (Tor, on shelves now)
In 1901, Sir Maurice Newbury and his new assistant Miss Veronica Hobbes are employed at the Anthropology department of the British Museum. They also serve as special agents of the Crown, investigating extraordinary threats against the Empire.

Sir Maurice scoffs at spiritualism and superstition, even though some of his c ases have involved the supernatural. He bows before the altar of Rationality and is enthralled by the mighty airships, graceful clockwork androids, and the other mechanical wonders of his age. Miss Hobbes finds her employer's enthusiasm for noisy odoriferous machines childish. She prefers horse-drawn carriages and Georgian architecture to the chaos and ornate fripperies of the current mode. Still she is a thoroughly modern woman championing forward-thinking social causes. Both of them keep shameful secrets and hidden agendas from each other, will their new partnership survive?

Newbury and Hobbes are assisting with Scotland Yard to investigate a series of strangulations in Whitechapel that may have a supernatural cause. Before they can pursue any new leads, Sir Maurice is called away for a special audience with the Queen. She is not amused.

Her Royal Majesty Queen Victoria is kept alive by huge wheezing machines (in our world she died in the first month of the 20th Century). The frightening cyborg monarch orders Newbury off all other cases to investigate the fiery crash of an airship that killed all those aboard. The automaton that piloted the craft is missing but, most seriously in her Royal eyes, one of her family, a Dutch prince was aboard. The investigation leads to Chapman & Villiers, Britain's largest airship company and the inventors of the wondrous automatons, which may not be as foolproof or harmless as advertised. .

Oh and by the way, there is also a plague of Revenants (to his credit, Mann does not use the Z-word). A virus, brought by soldiers returning from India, is infecting the neighborhoods of the less fortunate creating shambling cannibals of the classic Romero type. Everyone feels just awful about these and some calculate most of the country's population will be infected. Then again it only appears to occur to the poor, so not much is being done to stop it.

The plot whirrs along with a brisk clockwork (hah!) predictability switching over at times to reveal some of the protagonists' eccentricities and mysterious pasts. The second half shifts into high gear with some truly exciting action scenes. For all their supposed intellectual prowess, Newbury and Hobbes seem to solve most things by hitting them. Most of the puzzle clicks together as expected but some bits are just ejected with the flimsiest explanation. I'm sorry to report this story was steampunk lite, thrills and spills with steam engines in the background. Victorian language and customs have been watered down. There is an obvious message about the loss of our humanity to an increasingly mechanized society and a vague conflict between Science and Superstition. Most of the intimations of magic and the supernatural hint at the direction further Newbury and Hobbes investigations will go. I dearly hope that The Affinity Bridge is not their most interesting case.

The Kingdom Beyond the Waves by Stephen Hunt (Tor, on shelves now)
The Kingdom Beyond the Waves by Stephen Hunt (Tor, on shelves now)
This follow up to last year's excellent The Court of the Air is a riot of twisted imagination and full steam ahead thrills. Hunt's richly textured worldbuilding compares favorably with China Miéville's New Crobuzon novels or Philip Pullman. These authors blend sorcery and science with steampunk trappings and have their own encyclopedia's worth of invented creatures, histories, and societies. Miéville has the more sober tone and keeps a firmer hand on the tiller of plot and pacing, wheras Hunt is just crazy in all the right ways. Sometimes he gets a little at sea: characters will be a bit inconsistent, and his climaxes are just way over the top. He also has similar convoluted wordplay to Miéville but with less purple prose and more groan-worthy puns. There is also dark political satire stretching to bizarre proportions (Marxist thought is not spared this treatment).

Most of Hunt's protagonists hail from the Kingdom of Jackals which resembles Great Britain. Centuries ago, the Jackals' version of the Cromwell's Civil War assured that Parliament would have the upper hand in the nation's affairs. The royal family are kept in breeding houses and the arms of each King or Queen get amputated upon coronation, so no more waving from the balcony. Parliament members make and pass laws the in traditional manner: bashing each other with stout "debating sticks" in ritual duels. This green and pleasant land of shopkeepers and shepherds enjoys stability through its monopoly of the celgas that keeps its aerostat navy aloft as well as the Court of the Air, the secret police that uses a combination of total aerial surveillance and leyline magic.

Jackal's enemies abroad include Quatérshift, in the throes of an Eternal Revolution bloodier than Robbespierre, Stalin, and Pol Pot combined. Even more frightening is the desert Caliphate of Cassarabia where the biomages breed all manner of monstrous creatures from the wombs of human slaves. They all share the planet (Earth in a far-flung future?) with people that resemble crustaceans or winged lizards. There are also the steammen, a race of mostly gentle clockwork robots with a religion that has elements of Santería and Zen.

There are also Plucky orphans, fey-blooded super-soldiers, science-pirates akin to Nemo, vigilantes with mystic weapons, lost cities, shouty dinosaurs, and an entire jungle ecology with a hive mind. Petroleum — like the controllable "electricity" — is long gone, Much industry is powered by steam or clockwork. "Expansion engines" (and firearms) run on the volatile sap of the Blow-Barrel tree. I've just given you a sliver of Hunt's creation, and hope this has piqued your interest. Look beyond all the fascinating and fantastical elements, and Hunt's work is about the pursuit of dreams in a world of clashing ideals and conquest. You can probably read Kingdom without reading The Court of the Air first, but I think you'll be hooked either way. Join the expedition of Professor Amelia Harsh (who literally has the arms of a gorilla) and her quest for The Kingdom Beyond the Waves.

Soulless by Gail Carriger (Orbit, Late Sept. 2009)
This comedy of manners and monsters is the first of the Parasol Protectorate series. I was a tad embarassed that I enjoyed this silly and original story so much. I mean, let us now judge the book by its cover – hmm, photo of a slinky young lady in period costume...oookaaay, her bumbershoot has arbitrary gears and a length of rubber hose attached to it for no discernible purpose, and the cover blurb speaks of vampires and werewolves, uh huh – Oh Sweet Buffy Sainte-Marie, this is a steampunk paranormal romance! Well yes, there are dirigibles over another Victorian London and our sassy heroine does have some decidedly racy scenes, when not facing the forces of darkness. Ms. Carriger has imbued this book with a delightful sense of humour and some very fresh changes. Her heroine, Alexia Tarabotti, is a very original creation quite separate from all those crossbow-wielding tattooed tarts one sees writhing on so many paperback covers these days. She also understands the Importance of Tea, and the problem of Silly Little Hats.

Alexia Tarabotti seems doomed to spend her life as a spinster. She is far too willful and too old (well into her third decade) and has a father who is both Italian and dead. He left her with an unfashionable complexion, an abundance of all manner of curious books, and very little social prospects. Unbeknown to her mother and other boring people, Alexia lacks something else— a soul. Oh she laughs and cries as the rest of us do, appreciates the arts, and I suspect could bust out in a funky gavotte. She just has no immortal soul. Supernaturals; ghosts, vampires, werewolves, and the like have a surplus of soul, thus accounting for the extra life and unkillability they enjoy. The extemely rare preternaturals are born without a soul. Upon the slightest physical contact with Miss Tarabotti, a supernatural becomes a mere mortal, the fangs retract, fur sheds, and death or injury become very real prospects. This can be a very handy talent should the local vampire forget his manners and attempt to dine without an invitation.

In this capacity, Alexia occasionally assists the Bureau of Unnatural Registry, that Branch of Her Majesty's Civil Service that polices vampires and werewolves. Supernaturals revealed them selves to the world at large during the Civil War. They had grown weary of skulking in the shadows, fleeing the inevitable torches and pitchforks. Now they are integrated into high-society and have helped build the British Empire and no longer threaten innocent mortals. Still, there are little misunderstandings, and that's where the BUR comes in. It is led by the very dashing Scottish peer and Alpha of London's werewolf pack, Lord Conall Maccon. Miss Tarabotti is often offended by his brusque, crude manner, no doubt stemming from his exotic and savage nature. Oh, and he turns into a wolf once a month. How bothersome, and yet the lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Lord Conall and Miss Tarabotti must investigate the sudden appearance of unregistered vampires and the appearance of known supernatural citizens. They employ cutting-edge science and the most scathing banter they can muster. Gail Carriger has employed some very original thinking to the alternate-history-with-monsters game. She also lampoons the vicious world of Victorian society where an arch remark or fumbled introduction could reduce one to a state akin to walking death. Soulless is a character-driven romp with great worldbuilding and delicious rapier wit that recalls Austen and P.G. Wodehouse. Mystery and bloodshed abound, tea will be served,and there will be treacle tart!

Not Less Than Gods by Kage Baker
(Deluxe Hardcover, Subterranean Press, Dec. 2009 Trade Hardcover, Tor, March 2010)
I am a big Kage Baker fan and have raved about her books before. This one won't be coming out until after Kwaanza, and I'll do a more in-depth review then. I'll just say it involves the early life and career of that Victorian superspy, Edward Alton Bell-Faifax, whom some of you may know from The Company novels. Bell-Fairfax is a Hero in the most Classic sense, fated for greatness and all the tragedy that entails. There's globe-trotting espionage and scads of amazing secret gadgetry: novelty-hat cameras, radio transmitters, a kung-fu robot, radar-equipped speedboats, a rifle that shoots ice bullets, bullet-proof carriges with "internal-combustion engines", and so much more! "But wait, will there be goggles? We want the goggles, Grey!" Do you? Well how about telescopic infrared goggles? For Everybody! GOGGLES YAY!!

Do please pardon me. The important thing to remember is that Kage Baker really brings 1849 alive with a wealth of details and pitch perfect dialogue. This woman truly understands language in a way only someone deeply involved in the Theater can. She often works as a professional historical reenactor and has taught Elizabethean English as a Second Language. She takes a rather dim view of people who show up at RenFaire dressed as their WoW character and ask where the frozen yogurt stand is.

I have a similar problem with these Josiah-come-latelys who glue-gun clock parts to their bolo ties and spout things like, "I say, old bean, zeppelins are absolutely smashing!" in a bad Cockney accent. I spoke to one gentleman deeply committed to the Steampunk Lifestyle and he admitted that he never read any of the novels I discussed in the top half of this post. For him it all began and ended with that TV series starring Robert Conrad, which admittedly predates those novels. When asked why he found steampunk so fulfilling he rhapsodized about the DIY aesthetique his community enjoys,"I stitched this waistcoat and suit myself!" and the sense of boundless optimisim the psuedo-era held (holds?). To paraphrase; "People could become whatever they wanted despite their gender, race, or class!". This is stunningly ironic from someone emulating a period known for a rigid social hierarchy and the beginning of mass-produced consumer goods. Of course it's all fantasy, there never were clockwork automatons or airship fleets ushering in a Utopia of muttonchops and bustles. I just wish some of these fashion victims put a little more depth and research in to their statement. Read a damn book already.

Commenter Grey_Area is known to the Gentlemen's Speculative Society as Christopher Hsiang, Esq. He is very much looking forward to the 20th Century again.

Steamy Photograph by Kyle Cassidy, Models: Liza James and Jared Axelrod

The Enchantment Emporium, Tanya Huff (DAW)

In this urban fantasy, Allie Gale's grandma disappears, leaving behind a strange shop that sells magical supplies to the local witch population. When Allie takes it over, she's suddenly involved in a mysterious struggle within the Canadian magic community. If you ever wanted to speculate about the witch population of modern Toronto, this is your book.

Naamah's Kiss, Jacqueline Carey (Grand Central Publishing)

From the io9 review:

This is a novel of pure adventure, with a kick ass heroine who gets to fight, do magic, and get laid just like the swashbuckling heroes of old. It's a perfect beach read. And the best part is the Jacqueline Carey is extremely clever – don't let her fool you with all that romantic frippery. She manages to slip a lot of interesting, subversive messages into this swords-and-sorcery tale.

The Women of Nell Gwynne's, Kage Baker (Subterranean)

The women of a Victorian brothel are hired to cater to the needs of a party of businessmen holding an auction for a mysterious piece. They find themselves quickly involved in intrigue and espionage, in a story with flecks of steampunk and classic mystery. We reviewed it (along with a couple of other Baker books) here.

Wild Thyme, Green Magic, Jack Vance (Subterranean)

This career-spanning collection of stories from Jack Vance includes a wide variety of genres, including a few science fiction stories about other worlds. Vance's ability to build worlds has been praised by Frank Herbert, Poul Anderson and Robert Silverberg.

Fragment, Warren Fahy (Delacorte)

A reality show crew on a ship stumble on an island ecosystem inhabited by parallel-evolved monsters. From the io9 review:

If you like monsters and mad science - and who doesn't? - this is the perfect book to take on your vacation or on that long plane ride to a remote island. However, if you're looking for characters who move outside of two dimensions, you might want to give this one a pass.

The Year's Best Science Fiction 26, edited by Gardner Dozois (Griffin)

I'm a sucker for well-complied science fiction anthologies, and this one appears to be no exception. Including 30 stories from masters and new writers alike, this collection also has an extended list of honorable mentions. It looks like a pretty hefty resource for the short story geek.

Green, Jay Lake (Tor)

A fantasy / steampunky tale of international espionage and mythology. From the io9 review:

At times unsettling but always compelling, Green abounds with intrigue and adventure. A feminist fable lovingly written with a father's hope and concern for his daughter's future, Green is the story of a strong-willed young woman trying to find her place in a world that would rather ignore her. Green will not be ignored.

A Monster's Notes, Laurie Sheck (Knopf)

This novel turns inside out one of the oldest science fiction stories. The story imagines Frankenstein's monster not as Mary Shelley's creation, but as her companion, consoling her in a time of sorrow. He discusses with her all of the facets of humanity, trying to understand human connection in a world where he doesn't belong. It's a tale of speculative alternate history, couched in a story of compassion and companionship.

Julian Comstock: A Story of 22nd-Century America, Robert Charles WIlson (Tor)

A speculative future of post-oil America. From the io9 review:

Peak oil has left the world a churchy, early-industrial shambles in Robert Charles Wilson's new novel Julian Comstock. An engaging cross between post-apocalyptic series Jericho and Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, it may be the best science fiction novel of the year so far.

Haze, L.E. Modesitt Jr. (Tor)

An agent of the now-Chinese-run Earth investigates a planet surrounded by a haze of nano-satellites. He finds an eerily familiar world of superior technology.

House of Suns, Alastair Reynolds (Ace)

This book came out a little while back in the rest of the world, but this month marks its publication in the United States. It's a space opera of post-humanity and colonization, with the added twist of relativistic travel. As a result, this novel chronicles a mystery distorted by time. It's certainly nice to see a space epic that explores some of the complexity of actual interstellar travel. We reviewed it here.

The Strain, Guillermo Del Toro and Chuck Hogan (William Morrow)

Master of Horror Guillermo del Toro brings vampires back from their whiney post-Buffy image. From the io9 review:

The Strain is a breakneck thrill ride chronicling only the first four days of the vampire plague that may destroy civilization. The cinematic quality really comes though, making the book feel more like a action blockbuster than a thought-provoking horror novel.

Expanded from a 2003 novella of the same name originally published by Night Shade Books, The Empress of Mars came out in a novel-length form from Subterranean Press and is now available in a more affordable hardcover from Tor. This standalone novel is set in the same world as Baker's Company novels, where we follow the entertaining adventures of time-hopping immortal cyborgs working for a nefarious 24th Century cabal of scientists and industrialists. Readers unfamiliar with these stories will enjoy The Empress of Mars on its own merits, but I highly recommend picking up more of the Company novels, too.

As the novel opens, Great Britain isn't what she used to be. Ireland, Scotland, and Wales have hooked up with Brittany and others to form an independent Celtic Federation. The English, along with most of the rest of the First World, have settled into cozy oppressive nanny states. Alcohol, tobacco, animal-derived foods and products are all forbidden. There is pervasive disfavor towards organized religion, most literature, team sports, or anything else that might cause uncomfortable thoughts or angry up the blood. The one somewhat accepted religion is the powerful Ephesian Church, a synthesis of various neopagan matriarchal "traditions" just as ridiculous as the overgrown political correctness that dominates the secular world. Citizens displaying undesirable traits like recurrent violence, constant moodiness, or just a fondness for monster movies are sent to Hospital where they can be kept from disturbing decent society. The New Celts gleefully still practice certain polluting industries and "beast slavery" — keeping livestock or pets, mostly just to piss off the English. I suspect they kept all the best music too. The Celts have a very profitable black-market trade in wine and cheese back on Earth.

Unlike some high-and-mighty nations we could mention, the British space exploration program never had to rely on the variable whims and fortunes of its military; also, working with metric measurements was never a cause for confusion. Besides, those tiny, sheep-infested islands of tin miners and fisherfolk have trumped mighty empires before.

But sadly, the Martian Settlement proves to be quite a disappointment to the British Arean Company. The BAC invested billions and transported a workforce of rugged individualists and other social misfits. But once there, they fail to find any profit. Technical miscalculations concerning Mars' lack of a magnetosphere render the expensive fusion reactors they sent useless (I suspect some handwaving here). This lack also keeps the honeybees from following their ancient instincts, the Settlement's greenhouse crops must be pollinated by pricey microrobots called "biis". To top it off there are really no resources worth shipping back to Earth or Luna aside from the rare fossils prized by wealthy collectors. The bubble bursts, terraforming projects are shelved and the BAC cuts its losses. Hundreds of scientists and technicians are laid off with no ticket back Down Home, especially the eccentric volunteers from Hospital or problematic Ethnics like the Celts.

Among the stranded is xenobotanist and single parent of three teenage girls, Mary "Mother" Griffith. Fed up with the dog's breakfast that Earth society has become, she takes her severence package and pursues the only logical solution, she buys a small dome at the edge of the Settlement and opens a bar called The Empress of Mars. This fine establishment brews the finest – okay, only – beer on the whole of the Tharsis Bulge and has a loyal clientèle of the new Martians. There are the rowdy members of Clan Morrigan, an agricultural collective from the Celtic Federation, disparaged by the English settlers as Medievalists with their clanking & smoking blacksmithy, beast slavery (they actually eat *shudder* animals) and wanton ways. The Clan is led, just barely, by the boisterous and blustering Cochevelou; I couldn't read his parts without thinking of Brian Blessed. Thunderous Cochevelou is devoted to his son Perrick, who couldn't be less like his father if they were different species. This pale, tiny man-child cringes at his father's rough embraces preferring to keep busy with his beloved gadgets, especially his new improved biis -– what a clever little fellow Perrick is.

Mary Griffith also enjoys a dedicated following among the Ice Haulers, the lowest caste of Martian society, without whom the Settlement could never exist. These hard-drivin' muthatruckers push their bigger-than-big rigs on the perilous route from the Poles and back, with the frozen cargo essential to all life on Mars. Every enormous man and woman of the Ice Haulers —with hair and skin permeated with the red, wind-driven fines of the Martian sands — follow The Brick, their mountainous spokesman who has a sagacity and incalculable shrewdness to match his impressive bulk. This dood is just too cool for school.

Living with and working for Mother Griffith and her pretty — and sometimes overly friendly – daughters, are other castoffs from the BAC. Let us regard poor Mr. Morton, a brilliant architect who spent much of his life in Hospital due to his youthful interest in the works of Edgar Allan Poe. His friend Manco Inca, was recruited for the Mars venture for his brilliant terraforming concepts and Andean physiology but was kicked to the red dust curb for his adherence to a very unique view of Catholicism. The Nepalese journalist Chiring has sworn to stay on Mars and report about his fellow Martians despite a nagging revuslsion towards certain "unenlightened" local customs. And let us not forget The Heretic in the kitchen, this confused young woman with her ocular implant and Cassandra-like utterances, who was driven out from the Ephesian Church. Ms. Griffith still worships the Goddess in her own way and tries to protect the Heretic from the self-righteous priestesses of the Church.

The Empress of Mars fights to keep open, against the efforts of the Settlement director, who would rather all these weirdos just "go away". Mother gains an advantage when she makes a remarkable discovery sparking off a land rush comparable to the California and Klondike Gold Rushes. Shuttle flights increase geometrically, bringing the hopeful, desperate, and greedy — as well as con-men extrordinaire and legal sharks, to prey on the unwary. There are also incurable romantics such as Ottorino Vespucci who turned his back on his family's mercantile empire to find his dreams of living in the Wild West on the red frontier of Mars. Will Mother Griffith and the gang find a way to preserve their independence amid the sudden population explosion? Their struggle for survival may shape the very future of the Red Planet.

It would be easy to look for comparisons to Moving Mars by Greg Bear or the Mars Trilogy by Kim Stanley Robinson. The Empress of Mars reminds me more of Robinson's Antarctica, both describe communities of smart, highly-trained, and occasionally batshit insane people in a hostile environment cut off from the normal world. To borrow a line from Antarctica about the advantage a woman has in this sort of situation, "The odds are good, but goods are odd".The male to female ratio in such populations can grant an enterprising woman a power and prestige she may not receive in mainstream society.

The feel of frontier society runs strong in The Empress of Mars. The reader might find fond comparisons with Steinbeck's Cannery Road and Twain's Roughing It with sly humor and vivid, memorable characters. There are rough patches in the writing. Some passages definitely feel inserted to stretch the adventure to novel-length. The climax also feels very sudden — bang, and it's all over. I really would have enjoyed more stories of Kage Baker's Martians. I suppose I'll just make do with her two short stories set after the events in The Empress of Mars. Those stories are "Maelstrom" in the New Space Opera (Eos, 2007) and "Where the Golden Apples Grow" in Escape From Earth (Firebird, 2008).

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!

Kage Baker's The Women of Nell Gwynne's (Subterranean Press, June 2009) is a new novella also set in the richly imagined world of her Company novels. This is a fast-paced racy adventure of Victorian Age secret-agents, astonishing mechanical prodigies, and of course — murder!

"Lady Beatrice" is the steel-willed daughter of a British officer serving her Majesty's interest in India and Afghanistan. A series of Cruel Events leaves her cast out from proper society and penniless on the streets of London, a member of the Oldest Profession. Refusing to let Fate grind her down, Lady Beatrice stands apart from the common round-heeled doxys. She recognizes her body and mind as tools and weapons to be employed to her own advantage. The clever-crafted eyes of a certain Mrs. Corvey catch this potential and the not quite crippled widow recruits the fiery Lady Beatrice into Nell Gwynne's, Britain's most exclusive academy of amatory arts.

Unbeknownst to its distinguished clientèle, Nell Gwynne's is more than a high-end brothel. The talented young ladies also act as the highly regarded espionage ring for the Gentlemen's Speculative Society, the 19th Century's version of a very influential and mysterious Company. Employing their obvious charms and some very peculiar technologies the women of Nell Gwynne's mine the most eminent skulls of the Empire for valuable secrets.

Despite the fantastic elements and twists The Women of Nell Gwynne's feels faithful to the Victorian Period. One of Kage Baker's great strengths is her brilliance in presenting other time periods. As a writer, educator, and actress she lives and breathes history. She captures not just the little details and mannerisms of daily life but the deeply held attitudes of her characters whether from 1844, 1604, or the 24th Century. Subterranean's Deluxe Hardcover Edition won't be for everyone's budget but if you get a chance pick up The Women of Nell Gwynne's. It's a witty steampunk thriller as if written by Ian Fleming's crazy libertine aunt. I am hopeful we will see more of Lady Beatrice and her sisters in espionage.

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT...

Tachyon Publications is releasing their first kids' book, called The Hotel Under the Sand by Kage Baker. Although ideally suited for readers between the ages of 9 and 12, babysitters, parents, and other boring people will also enjoy sharing this magical adventure.

The main character is a girl named Emma, who washes up on a desolate seacoast after losing all she knows and loves. (Why is it that orphans always get the cool adventures in books?) As she tries to find food and shelter on the empty Dunes, she meets a ghost named Winston in a bellhop uniform. Together they rediscover a glorious old hotel called the Grand Wenlocke.

The hotel has been buried beneath the Dunes for a hundred years — perfectly preserved by a brass-geared stasis machine. Inside they find the hotel's kindly cook, Mrs. Beet (she has an eyepatch!) and her dog who have been frozen in time. They are joined by Captain Doubloon, a grizzled old sea captain – not a pirate, really – with a pegleg, a parrot, and an eyepatch (why do all the cool grownups get eyepatches?) Just to keep things from getting dull, out of the skies on a homemade flying machine comes young Masterman Wenlocke. He's the last heir of the hotel's builder, a mechanical genius, and total brat, who escaped a boarding school and his greedy Legal Guardian (no eyepatch on that guy). The five new friends decide to reopen the beautiful hotel and look for its fabulous treasure. At the Grand Reopening, it seems appropriate that a hotel as odd as the Grand Wenlocke would attract guests who seem to have come from the pages of myth and legend. Wait 'til you meet them, they're really strange.

This was not too long, and is pretty easy too read with just the right amount of long words that clever readers would like looking up. Ms. Baker has written something like an Edwardian storybook by E. Nesbit but still suitable for modern tastes and attention-spans. There are also some beautiful and ethereal illustrations by fantasy artist Stephanie Pui-Mun Law. The Hotel Under the Sand is smart and funny, filled with old-fashioned wonder but never sappy. I think this would be perfect for a week's worth of bedtime stories or curling up with on a rainy afternoon.

You can buy these three books from Amazon,
or support your local independent bookseller.

Commenter Grey_Area is known as Christopher Hsiang to Thuvia, Barmaid of Mars. He so totally wants an eyepatch!

Get to know them as individuals, rather than types. If your characters are cut off from all the present-day cultural references, like "lawyer who went to Harvard," then it's even more important to think of them as individuals, says Elizabeth Bear, Campbell- and Hugo-winning author of Carnival and Undertow. "Try very hard to know them as people," she urges. "That goes for any setting, past or present or future — or alternate reality."

In particular, you should think, "'This is a person who happens to have the following traits, and all that they imply,' rather than 'this is a nuclear physicist who grew up in Iowa.'"

Try making your characters scientists. Or at least, have them be obsessed with stuff that's relavant to your storyline, advises Kim Stanley Robinson, Hugo- and Nebula-winning author of the Mars trilogy and the Science In The Capital series. Having scientists as your characters lets you "explore the setting and the character at once." And it helps if your characters obsess about the mysteries and explanations in your story. They can also be obsessed with a planet, spaceship, new procedure or alien.

Base them on people you know. The most realistic characters are often based closely on your friends or people you've met, says Rudy Rucker, Philip K. Dick-winning author of the -Ware novels and Postsingular. That goes double for your aliens, A.I.s and robots, he adds. It's always better to copy your friends than to lift from "received ideas about how SF characters might behave. Who wants to see yet another a humorless talking head with a BBC accent? The absolute worst thing in Matrix III was when Keanu gets to the virtual office of the Big Computer Mind, and he meets, like, a tweedy professor with a white beard. Ugh! At the very least it should have been a fat hacker in a T-shirt, preferably high on pineal extract." Also: to make your characters stand out, try having them say quirky, unexpected things. "Forget your Star Trek memories, and remember your wild and crazy friends — the ones who say things that Make No Sense," Rucker advises.

Give them a thought-out world. The more carefully thought out the world you're placing your characters into, the more we'll be able to believe that they live there, says Tobias Buckell, author of Sly Mongoose. And that also makes it easier to "contrast them against this imaginary place."

Figure out what they love, and what they fear. Try to find what drives your characters, including what they want and need, Bear urges. And understand what traumatizes them. "I tell people I like to know what they'd want on their tombstone: that seems to give me a really good handle on who they are."

She adds:

Characters we can relate to have fears and damage, but moreover, for me they have to be devoted to something — an ideal, a person, whatever. Even villains become much more sympathetic when we're introduced to whatever it is that they love.

Kage Baker, author of the Company novels, agrees: "It isn't the way a person relates to his hovercar that makes him memorable; it's what's going on in his heart." No matter what planet or time you're living in, there will be "certain constants in human existence: struggle against poverty, rebellion against authority, love and desire, loneliness, curiosity. Any reader can relate to those." Make sure your character has loves and hatreds that readers can see themselves in, and the rest will take care of itself.

Don't aim for larger-than-life — and overshoot. One pitfall with science fiction characters is that authors sometimes make their characters "bigger than life, or archetypal" to let them compete with the big, brash colorful worlds they live in. A common mistake is veering past archetypal, all the way into "over the top, or maybe somewhat cliche." If you do try for archetypal characters, think of the classics from all genres, like Sherlock Holmes' quirky genius or Captain Ahab's drive.

Don't obsess too much about setting and toys. If you spend pages and pages on dense descriptions of your settings and how exactly your hovercar works, you're distracting the reader from your characters, says Baker.

It's enough to say "He climbed into his hovercar" and your reader will get the idea. You don't need to give a geography lesson: "They were sitting in the courtyard drinking fire-palm wine" or "She trudged back from the well, balancing her water jar" or "They looked out across the desert and saw the yellow mountains of Califia before them" all give brief, intense impressions of a place, without stopping the narrative in its tracks or drawing focus from the main character.

Find out who's hurting. If your story involves a new situation or technological breakthrough, figure out who suffers as a result — maybe that should be your main character, says Robinson, quoting from Damon Knight (who was quoting James Blish in turn.)

Keep your characters grounded. The stranger the setting, the more ordinary your characters should be, says Terry Bisson, Hugo- and Nebula-winning author of Bears Discover Fire. "For example, in my most recent story, the narrator 'had a job and an apartment, but that was all.' The story wasn't about the setting but about the character."

Your characters should be "totally convinced they live in the present, rather than the future. Because, of course, it IS the present to them," says David J. Williams, author of The Mirrored Heavens. Make sure your world, and your characters, both have a believable past, that anchors their present. "As Gibson said, the future's already here, it's just unevenly distributed. Same is true for the past: it's always with us, but sometimes beneath the surface. How one handles that is the key to character."

DeNiro's review starts out by asserting that space opera hasn't crossed over to the mainstream as much as other subgenres of science fiction have. Cormac McCarthy may have made the post-apocalyptic dystopia story respectable with The Road, but nobody's writing literary epics about "hyperactive starships."

And then DeNiro launches into his actual critique of The New Space Opera: most of the stories are actually about posthuman characters who have been modified to survive in deep space. They've given up so much of their humanity to become spaceworthy, it's made them emotionally inacessible to readers. And they're tiny, against the massive scale of galaxy-wide intrigues and thousand-year wars. (I definitely found this to be a problem with some of the stories in the volume as well, when I read it last year.) Contrast this with old-school space opera, which was comfortable putting regular old humans in charge of its starships.

But the stories fail to engage with the fact of their characters' emotional dissociation as part of the narrative. And if you're going to write alienating mini-sagas about transhumanism, DeNiro suggests, you need masterful prose instead of the merely serviceable writing in this anthology. Most of all, the anthology promises "fun," but delivers careful, hide-bound stories instead. DeNiro does pick out a few exceptions, including James Patrick Kelly's "Dividing The Sustain" and Tony Daniel's "The Valley Of The Gardens."

DeNiro's bracing critique gave rise to an interesting roundtable discussion, which he participated in, over at SF Signal, which mostly dealt with the meta-question he raised: why hasn't space opera crossed over to the mainstream the way other SF sub-genres have? Authors from the anthology tried to answer, or refute, DeNiro's question.

Kage Baker asks why space opera needs to be relevant anyway. Paul McAuley attempts to claim that Doris Lessing's Canopus In Argos series was mainstream. (It's probably the least mainstream of all her works.) Tobias Buckell cites the popularity of Star Wars as proof that space opera really is mainstream. Anthology co-editor Jonathan Strahan argues that you shouldn't think of space-opera as entrenched within the science fiction field, but rather as at the center of the SF field. Gwyneth Jones says space-opera is more versatile than people give it credit for, and it's a good vehicle for asking questions about statecraft.

In the end, though, none of them addressed DeNiro's question of whether "new" space opera has to gain its newness by jettisoning the humanity of its characters. And whether that might be part of the reason why it's not relatable for readers who aren't die-hard science fiction fans. [Rain Taxi] and [SF Signal]