Jamie Marriage

Jamie Marriage is an Australian speculative fiction writer based in Sydney. Find out more about Jamie’s work at his website.

Dystopia is a prevalent theme in the modern world: environmental collapse, political upheaval, economic degradation, and uncontrollable technological evolution. These topics are difficult to ignore, and even more difficult to acknowledge.

Wolves isn’t a novel about the Big Bad Wolf coming to gobble up fairy-tale animals and children; it is about far darker creatures…the black prowling creature that lives within us all, awaiting the opportunity to escape, awaiting release–lies, misdeeds, hidden truths that lurk and feed in the dark.

Set in a real world on the brink of collapse, Wolves is a novel about how change is both beautiful and sad, euphoric and brutal, afraid of the dark but turning to face it head on. The setting of a placid English town is already fractured for the young protagonist, Conrad, and his father. Living in a hotel purchased by his bi-polar and financially incompetent mother, Conrad and his father Ben are trapped in a life of inconsistency. Conrad tries to live his adolescence through his best friend Michael. He seeks a sense of stability, something he doesn’t receive from a father caught up in his work running a hotel and assisting with the recuperation of soldiers blinded in a unexplained military conflict; and a mother who spends half her time creating commercially un-viable products to sell to hotel patrons, and the other half in a women-only protest camp.

Conrad is soon confronted with the suicide of his mother in bizarre circumstances, and in his panic he commits guilty acts that stalk him for decades to come.

The story often flashes between Conrad as he ages, and himself a young man–a flowing narrative that builds his own story and that of those around him. We see Michael and his growth from paranoid survivalist to celebrity author, cashing in on his fears of the coming apocalypse; Hanna, Michael’s partner, who Conrad spends a night of uncontrolled lust with after being abandoned by Michael at a party and the unexpected child that results; and the world itself, as it comes to term with evolving technology that changes both how humanity perceives the world, and how it perceives itself.

Nothing is simple in the world of Wolves. Simon Ing has drawn a world complicated in the extreme, with layers of depth under every paragraph and within every conversation. Yet the difficulty is not in understanding the tale, but in the realisation in that we are already on a course similar to that which Ing has penned, on a ship impossible to steer.

Wolves is a dark book; it’s not friendly. It’s not a tale of non-stop action or steamy romance; important plots are not met with a grand upheaval, but rather with an uncomfortable feeling in the gut. Sexual encounters between Conrad and other characters are awkward and confused. Conversations are raw, emotional, and realistic affairs that more often than not, leave the characters worse off.

This being said, it is also deeply enjoyable. Realism and speculation meld beautifully in this novel; each character is deep, and sadness is often drawn tight with a silver lining. This is a tale with a message that needs to be fully absorbed before it can be comprehended: a message of loss, and hope, and change, and fear.

A message of the future, for the future.

Alayna Cole

Alayna Cole reviews a debut novel
by Andrew J McKiernan from Satalyte Publishing

The short story collection Last Year, When We Were Young, by Andrew J McKiernan, shines a unique light on classic horror. The sixteen tales in the collection draw inspiration from a variety of genres and styles, with the magically humorous juxtaposed against the frightfully repulsive, but each story has something in common: they are all hauntingly clever.

Each twisted tale is striking and features an assortment of fascinating characters. From a mute mime to a woman in search of a second chance, from a teenage boy to a young country girl, the individual voice of each protagonist is expertly carried through the narrator, granting each story a distinct tone. Language is used skilfully to completely change the atmosphere of each story and to construct the identity of each character.

Creating three-dimensional characters in short stories is a difficult task, but McKiernan succeeds time and again. Although each protagonist is identifiably different from those in neighbouring stories, they all have traits that resonate. Being able to relate to and sympathise with this diverse range of characters makes these tales even more confronting and thought-provoking.

This short story collection is filled with surprises. With darker ideas littered between more light-hearted stories, it is impossible to guess what is waiting on the next page. The constant curiosity of what the next story might contain makes Last Year, When We Were Young difficult to put down.

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Alayna Cole

Alayna Cole loves to write stories when she’s not studying for her Bachelor of Education/Bachelor of Arts.

Shovel Ready – a thrilling novel by Adam Sternbergh – follows the story of a garbageman turned hitman who agrees to a new job and is met with an unexpected series of ethical dilemmas and more responsibilities than he bargained for.

The novel is set in dystopian New York after it was ravaged by a short series of events that ultimately led to its demise. The setting is artfully constructed, littered with symbolic subtleties and just enough realism for it to be frightening. Compared to the extreme weather events and natural disasters that are often to blame for comparable settings, the causes of this dystopia are strangely anti-climactic, but this is by no means a criticism. What happens to Times Square, and subsequently the rest of New York, is alarmingly plausible and the knowledge that humans are entirely capable of initiating a similar domino effect is enthralling.

While exploring these ideas of man-made dystopia through action sequences, Sternbergh also examines how dystopia can be forged by inaction. ‘Tapping in’ – the act of escaping to a dream world through the use of a ‘bed’ and the aid of modern technology – provides a perfect constructed life for any residents of New York who can afford the privilege. The addiction to technology that this propagates is depicted as inherently problematic and acts as a clever comment on the increasing reliance on other facets of technology, such as the internet and smart phones. This social commentary is reminiscent of how the popularisation of visual media, such as television, was criticised in Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451.

The protagonist and anti-hero of Shovel Ready – who is known only as Spademan – is remarkably multi-faceted. Sternbergh does an incredible job of constructing a character who is both likeable and unlikeable, and to whom readers can relate. Spademan may be a hitman, but he is not simply a weapon lacking dimension; as much as he enjoys claiming to be only a disinterested, amoral bullet, he is still characterised by a layered backstory that has notable impacts on his personality traits. Clever foreshadowing ensures that, as Spademan’s story is revealed, memories and flashbacks are simultaneously surprising and believable.

Sentences are sharp and punctuation is used sparingly, with quotation marks neglected altogether. The lack of attribution in scenes featuring heavy dialogue leads to occasional confusion as to who is speaking, but this deliberate stylistic choice is effective in making the prose appear as sparse as the setting. The minimalist writing style is symbolic of the luxuries the novel’s characters are unable to afford and resembles the narration of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, in which comparable stylistic choices achieve a similar effect.

The narrator’s unique voice is witty and punchy and gives even more life to Spademan’s fascinating character. This narrator evokes a range of emotions – from hilarity to melancholy, from rage to curiosity – with each turn of the page. This novel is engaging and the ideas continue to be captivating days after it ends.