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Review by Paul DiFilippo
On the distant world of Vlhan, an alien dance is an art form that lures humans to their deaths
This new collection from the author of Vossoff and Nimmitz: Just a Couple of Idiots Reupholstering Space and Time (2002) reveals a completely different side to Adam-Troy Castro. Whereas that prior book was absurdist, sprawling and irreverent, this new volume is serious speculative material with a somber tone—although traces of the author's comic flair do leak through here and there.
The first three novellas all take place in what Castro calls his "AIsource Infection" future history. The first two explore the world of Vlhan, home to a unique race of aliens dubbed the Marionettes, while the third tale shifts its focus to the world of Catarkhus, where equally challenging sentients offer a different set of problems.
"The Funeral March of the Marionettes" is narrated by one Alex Gordon, a human diplomat. Present at the strange annual dance of the Marionettes—multilegged, spherical-bodied creatures of awesome strength and grace—Gordon is startled along with the other spectators to witness a human woman daring to enter the arena where the gory dance takes place. Plainly she intends to join the alien rite. Rescued by Gordon, the bodily modified woman reveals only her name, Isadora, and her desire to dance with the Marionettes. Locked up for her own safety, Isadora proves to have intrigued the Marionettes by her willingness to dance with them. The normally placid aliens storm the settlement, release Isadora and resume their ritual—with unforeseen consequences for the whole galaxy.
Set some years afterward, "The Tangled Strings of the Marionettes" chronicles a period where many human dancers flock to Vlhan. Our narrator this time is a reporter named Paul Royko, assigned to cover one dancer in particular, a woman named Shalakan. But Shalakan proves to be less interesting than her husband, Dalmo, and their companion, Ch'tpok, another human female. As Royko becomes entangled in the trio's bizarre quest, he finds his journalistic objectivity evaporating, leaving him in a dangerous place.
In "Unseen Demons," a galactic prosecutor named Andrea Cort is assigned the task of proving the guilt of a serial killer, another human named Emil Sandburg. Her only problem: Sandburg's native victims on Catarkhus fall through several loopholes in the relevant statutes concerning sentience, although everyone is instinctively sure they qualify. And one final impediment: In her own way, Cort is as guilty as Sandburg.
Two other novellas round out this collection. "The Magic Bullet Theory" takes a trip back to the Wild West, specifically the town of Sticky Tar, N.M. There, a traveling showman named Beauregard Finch will exhibit the magic bullet of the title, little reckoning that its very existence will drive a local badman mad, with disastrous results for the whole town. Finally, "Sunday Night Yams at Minnie and Earl's" tells of the early days of lunar colonization and an anomalous pair of settlers who bring a much-needed touch of Old Earth to the barren seas of Luna.
"The Funeral Dance of the Marionettes" earned Castro both Hugo and Nebula nominations, and it's easy to see why. It has that much-admired but seldom-matched New Wave, postmodern planetary-romance ambiance best exemplified by Roger Zelazny in such seminal work as "A Rose for Ecclesiastes" and "The Doors of His Face, The Lamps of His Mouth." A male loner, an exotic planet, a strange woman, enigmatic aliens, danger, sacrifice, bereavement: All the elements that Zelazny once wove so skillfully are here deployed by Castro in almost equally fascinating patterns. Castro's skill at depicting the alien dance is matched by his handling of the tentative and brief love affair between Gordon and Isadora. Moreover, the subgenre of anthropological SF typified by Michael Bishop's "Death and Designation Among the Asadi" is invoked as well. Yet while all the same puzzle pieces are also on display in the sequel, their impact is a bit less, since we've seen the same formula in the same place already. But Castro adds in the strange quandry of Dalmo and achieves a closing frisson missing from the first tale.
While the Marionette stories appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, "Unseen Demons" earned a slot in Analog, and it's curious to note how its structure conforms to that latter magazine's famous problem-solving bent. The emphasis is off romance and onto logical reasoning, with a soupcon of courtroom drama, granting this tale more intellectual appeal, rather than gut attraction. And I seem to detect an homage to Stanley Weinbaum's "A Martian Odyssey" in Castro's portrayal of the Catarkhus natives, who resemble Weinbaum's unresponsive wheelbarrow creatures.
"The Magic Bullet Theory" is more the gonzo Castro we know from his prior collection, resembling a Joe Lansdale or Neal Barrett romp. It's full of deadpan hilarity, mostly due to the humble and put-upon nature of its narrator, a luckless cowpoke named Jared Wallop, who continues to tell his story even under the most dire circumstances. Finally, "Sunday Night Yams at Minnie and Earl's" reveals yet a third facet to Castro's storytelling abilities. Here, he manages to evoke the same kind of homely awe at lunar colonization and space travel in general that Heinlein did 50 years ago, a motif which other contemporary writers— Oltion, Varley, Baxter—have also been resurrecting lately.
Put this collection alongside Vossoff and Nimmitz, and you have the complete portrait of a fine and diverse SF writer.
Although known mainly to date for his short stories, Castro promises in an afterword that a couple of non-tie-in novels from him will soon be arriving to shock, enlighten and entertain. Keep your eyes peeled! — Paul
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