Morgenstern’s work is a novel for the book lovers and the story fanatics. It is the reader’s paradise, filled with reading nooks, secret libraries, mysterious books, and attractive storytellers.
Gradually, he grew accustomed to his alternate form, to the point that he could forget about it for hours at a time.
This emotional tug of Chiang’s stories is surprising; his style of writing in the collection is precise and straightforward, almost distant. Oftentimes, its tone can feel more like a scientific documentary or research project than a piece of fiction.
As I’ve gotten older, busier, and generally more stressed, I’ve noticed something sad about myself: I seldom read for fun anymore. When I was a growing up in the truly riveting hubbub of Morro Bay, California I would make a conscious effort to sit myself down and read a gosh darn novel or even just … Continue reading Finding Time to Read for Fun
Edie Sussman, BFR Staff The small bell above the door rang sharply as Dr. Magellan and an accompanying frozen breeze swept into the waiting room. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was hell this morning.” Her receptionist nodded knowingly. “Have they still not put out that fire out over on the 101?” “Nope. The pyromancy department has … Continue reading Short Fiction: The Pediatrician
A slimy, oatmeal-like, little blob is reacting to the edgy riff of the electric guitar. ”The very unpleasant little creature” from the Flight of the Navigator. Its cells are just beginning to awaken from their inert slumber as they begin to do little flips and contortions, throbbing together as they bathe in the fluid that … Continue reading Short Story: The Machine Room
One day at the docks, a mermaid kissed a boy. Here’s what happened: the boy was fishing there with his family’s pole. He was at the far end of the docks, the rich end, where fish gobbled up rich-people treats that got tossed from the more ornate vessels. He was thinking of ways humans could … Continue reading Short Story: Mermaid
Ernest edged out of the field and onto the bare, cracked earth. The grass rustled behind him as he left it in his wake. The stone river stretched before him; the bank on the other side, shaded by poplars, shimmered under the summer sun. He put out a foot to test the water. Hot. Too … Continue reading Short Story: Ernest and the Stone River
I often find myself wondering why I’ve come to enjoy the things that I do. The literature that I prefer to consume occasionally has acknowledgeable intellectual or literary merit, but more often than not, it is not “capital L” literature. It’s very lowercase L. It probably has elves in it. Or spaceships. And I’m not … Continue reading On Reading What You Want To and What You Don’t
Sci-Fi. An abbreviation that has the power to invoke utter joy or disgust given the beholder of the topic. I personally used to be one of the blind that discredited this genre as gimmicky and meritless. Though I appreciated the concepts and imagination, I never considered anything even faintly classified as science fiction to be … Continue reading Essay: Sci-Fi and the Trick to World Building in Creative Fiction