Podcast appearances and mentions of vajra chandrasekera

Review of The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekerahttps://www.goodreads.com/group/show/1170934-area-512-listenersSend us a text

Our website - www.perksofbeingabooklover.com. Instagram - @perksofbeingabookloverpod Facebook - Perks of Being a Book Lover. To send us a message go to our website and click the Contact button.   You can find if there is a chapter of Silent Book Club near you or look into starting your own by going to their website; https://silentbook.club/   For show notes for any episode, go to our website at perksofbeingabooklover.com.  We are also on Instagram @perksofbeingabookloverpod and on FB Perks of Being a BookLover. To send us a message, go to our website and click the Contact button.   Have you ever wanted to try a book club but they just seem too peopley?  Or maybe you don't want to be told what book you have to read. OR maybe you are looking for a place away from kids and responsibilities where nothing else but the words in front of you are vying for your attention.  If any of these apply, then a Silent Book Club might be for you.  Silent Book Club began in 2012 and is, according to their mission statement, a “global community of readers, with more than 1500 chapters in 54 countries around the world led by local volunteers. SBC members gather in public at bars, cafes, bookstores, libraries, and online to read together in quiet camaraderie.”     This week we chat with Brittany Brar, the leader of a local chapter of the Silent Book Club in Louisville, Kentucky.  Brittany started the local chapter here in 2019, right before the pandemic with 5 people.  She was new in town and didn't know where to find a booklcub to join.  Now the group has over 2000 members of their FB group and as many as 60 people have shown up to their monthly meetings. Brittany talks to us about how people have developed a new sense of community, when a powerpoint presentation can be regarded as fun, and her go-to  genres   After our chat with Brittany, we will give you our recommendations for big honking books that meet not only your reading but also strength training goals.    Books Mentioned In This Episode: 1- Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland by Patrick Radden Keefe   2- The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman   3- Monsters: A Fan's Dilemma by Claire Dederer   4- Rakesfall by Vajra Chandrasekera   5- The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson   6- Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson   7- That's Not My Name by Megan Lally   8- Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry   9- It by Stephen King   10- Leviathan Wakes by SA Corey (592 pages)    11-The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (704 pages)    12- Team of Rivals by Doris Kearns Goodwin (944 pages) 13- Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett  (976 pages)    14- Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver (546 pages)    15- When the World Tips Over by Jandy Nelson (528 pages)   16- East of Eden by John Steinbeck (601 pages)   17- A Five Star Read Recommended By Fellow Book Lover Kim Wells @the_salty_islander - A Home for Friendless Women by Kelly E. Hill     Media mentioned--   1- Say Nothing (Hulu, 2024)   2- The Dark Secrets Behind the Neil Gaiman Abuse Accusations --https://www.vulture.com/article/neil-gaiman-allegations-controversy-amanda-palmer-sandman-madoc.html   3- The Expanse (Prime, 2015)          

A book about empire, memory, historical trauma and the consequences of dating your blorbo. Huge thanks to Vajra for suggesting this one and for coming on to talk about it!

Langdon and Eden happily return to Vajra Chandrasekera's Rakesfall but first must unhappily return to the ongoing and intensifying genocide in Palestine. They discuss ideas that appear in both the book and our lived experiences of culpability, memory, storytelling, and future imaginaries as well as delay on the subject of hype and attention. Music played: Bedsore - Realm of Eleuterillide https://bedsoredeath.bandcamp.com/track/realm-of-eleuterillide Dungeon Crawl - The Arcane Temptation https://dungeoncrawlofficial.bandcamp.com/track/the-arcane-temptation

Vajra Chandrasekera returns to Arcx for our season finale. Since we last spoke, Vajra has won a Nebula award, as well as Crawford and Locus awards for his debut novel, The Saint of Bright Doors. He has also been nominated for Le Guin, Ignyte, Hugo, Lammy, and British Fantasy Awards—and we're sure there are more in the pipeline!  Vajra's short stories, poems and articles have appeared in many publications over the years, including Clarkesworld and West Branch. He has also worked as an editor for Strange Horizons, and Afterlives: The Year's Best Death Stories.  In this episode, we delve into his second cross genre novel, Rakesfall, exploring the complexity of this fascinating novel that follows two characters across space, time, and life cycles and explores themes of power, resistance, and connections. We also discuss political oppression, genocidal playbooks, shifts in the publishing industry, South Asian writers, the flattened postcolonial world we live in, and much more.  You can follow Vajra Chandrasekera on X @_vajra   

Sri Lankan writer Vajra Chandrasekera's first novel, The Saint of Bright Doors, was shortlisted for or won nearly every major SFF award there is. Much of the buzz around this book circled the question:”what exactly is this?” Saints not only didn't fulfill the expected tropes of the genre, but seemed to be actively working against […] The post Vajra Chandrasekera : Rakesfall appeared first on Tin House.

This time around, Eden is joined by none other than Vajra Chandrasekera, author of The Saint of Bright Doors and Rakesfall! The two discuss time, history, anti-colonial and colonial violence, the legacy of Arthur C. Clarke in Sri Lanka, memory, scale, science fiction and the New Weird as a genre and so much more! Music played: Wormed - PROTOGOD https://wormed.bandcamp.com/track/protogod

This week, Lisa and Scott discussed Rakesfall, written by Vajra Chandrasekera and narrated by Shiromi Arserio. Rakesfall [Libro.fm] / [OverDrive/Libby] / [Audible] The Saint of Bright Doors [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] / [Audible] / [Episode 223]  This is How You Lose the Time War [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] / [Audible]  

Welcome to the Southasia Review of Books Podcast from Himal Southasian, where we speak to celebrated authors and emerging literary voices from across Southasia. In this episode, Shwetha Srikanthan, assistant editor at Himal Southasian, speaks to the Colombo-based author Vajra Chandrasekera about his debut novel 'The Saint of Bright Doors' (July 2023) and his second and most recent novel, 'Rakesfall' (June 2024). In The Saint of Bright Doors, Vajra paints a vivid picture of a city on the brink – tracing Fetter's path from child assassin, raised to kill his saintly father to misguided adult with the ability to see devils, anti-gods and magical traces of their world – like the mysterious bright doors. In blending the mundane and fantastical with violence of colonialism, religious control, and the struggles against these systems – the book captures the complex of the power structures that shape us. But one lifetime is not enough to tell some stories. Rakesfall is a complex portrait of death and reincarnations. This cross-genre science fiction epic, following two souls as they reincarnate and echo across alternative realities, the mythic past to modern Sri Lanka, its long drawn civil war, to a far-future Earth abandoned by humanity. We see how those in power consolidate their hold on society, even to the point of strangling it again and again. It's about the rise and fall of empires. How every attempt to make imperial power last forever fails and is always vulnerable to rebellion. At its core, The Saint of Bright Doors and Rakesfall explore the connectedness of struggles for liberation and how they reoccur in different contexts of oppression. The Saint of Bright Doors has won the Locus, Nebula, and Crawford awards and is a finalist for the 2024 Hugo Award for Best Novel. Vajra's nonfiction, poetry and over 50 short stories have appeared in magazines and anthologies including Analog, Black Static, Clarkesworld, The Los Angeles Times, among others. He has worked as an editor for Strange Horizons and Afterlives: The Year's Best Death Stories, and as a judge for the Dream Foundry Writing Contest and the Salam Award. This episode is now available on Soundcloud: Spotify: Apple Podcasts: Youtube: youtu.be/VXuSQtHRDZk

Kate Heartfield writes historical fantasy novels, games, and stories. Show notes: Kate Heartfield (https://www.kateheartfield.com) The Embroidered Book (https://www.kateheartfield.com/the-embroidered-book/) The Valkyrie (https://www.kateheartfield.com/the-valkyrie/) John Gardner, Grendel (https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/58201/grendel-by-john-gardner/) Aeon Timeline (https://www.aeontimeline.com) Vajra Chandrasekera, The Saint of Bright Doors (https://vajra.me/books/the-saint-of-bright-doors/) Learn more about Scrivener (https://www.literatureandlatte.com/scrivener/overview), and check out the ebook Take Control of Scrivener (https://www.literatureandlatte.com/store). If you like the podcast, please follow it in Apple Podcasts (https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/write-now-with-scrivener/id1568550068) or your favorite podcast app. Leave a rating or review, and tell your friends. And check out past episodes of Write Now with Scrivener (https://podcast.scrivenerapp.com).

This episode is a wide-ranging discussion with two important guests: the brilliant Vajra Chandrasekera, whose amazing first novel The Saint of Bright Doors is currently nominated for both Hugo and Nebula Awards, and whose even more adventurous Rakesfall will be published in June, and our old friend, the excellent critic, reviewer and fellow podcaster (The Writer and the Critic) Ian Mond. We touch upon some of the sources of Vajra's fiction, the notion of science fantasy, and how his novels incorporate a wide variety of styles and themes, from almost documentary realism about the brutality of colonialism—especially in his native Sri Lanka—to mythic tales and far-future SF. It's a pretty lively chat!   Note: We experienced some technical difficulties towards the end of the recording so it does end somewhat abruptly.  We do hope you enjoy the recording and we'll come back to some of the topics soon in another podcast.

This time around, Langdon and Eden explore the shadowy and religious urbanity of The Saint of Bright Doors, a fantasy book about knowledge, imperialism, and violence. But first, they talk about the shadow urbanity of the United States of America and Langdon's trans-dimensional adventures with Power Wash Simulator (yes). Music played: Pessimystic - Burnt Offering https://pessimysticofficial.bandcamp.com/track/burnt-offering Bull of Apis Bull of Bronze - Ekstasis, Enstasis, and The Fractal Ouroboros https://bullofapisbullofbronze.bandcamp.com/track/ekstasis-enstasis-and-the-fractal-ouroboros

Arcx is all about literary inspiration. In this episode, we speak to short story writer, editor and novelist, Vajra Chandrasekera. Vajra's work is largely in the realm of speculative fiction, and he has published over a hundred pieces since 2012 in various formats. Notably, his work has been featured in Analog, Clarkesworld, West Branch, and The Los Angeles Times. He has also been nominated for the Theodore Sturgeon Memorial Award for his short story, The Translator, at Low Tide. Additionally, he was also nominated for the British Science Fiction Association award for Best Non-fiction. His debut novel, The Saint of Bright Doors was released in July 2023. His short stories have been featured in several anthologies including The Best Science Fiction of the Year, The Apex Book of World SF, and Transcendent: The Year's Best Transgender Speculative Fiction. Vajra was also part of the editorial team at Strange Horizons, and in his role as fiction editor, worked closely with several writers from all over the world. He's also passionate about initiatives that protect the political and artistic freedoms of Sri Lankan writers and artists who have been censored and imprisoned by the state.   In this episode, we sit down to discuss some classic desi themes: colonialism, intergenerational trauma, and overblown family drama. We also touch on destiny, friendships, revolution, and terrible science fiction adaptations.   You can follow Vajra on Twitter at @_vajra and on his website Vajra.me. Read Vajra's Work:  The Saint of Bright Doors (Novel) The Translator, at Low Tide Theses on the Scientific Management of Goetic Labour Rhizomatic Diplomacy Terminus  Running the Gullet On the Origin of Specie Arcx is a series of the Subverse, the podcast of Dark ‘n' Light, a digital space that chronicles the times we live in and reimagining futures with a focus on science, nature, social justice and culture. Follow us on social media @darknlightzine, or at darknlight.com for episode details and show notes.

This week we discussed The Saint of Bright Doors, written by Vajra Chandrasekera and narrated by Sid Sagar. Review & discussion with Lisa and Scott. The Saint of Bright Doors [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] / [Audible] The Locked Tomb (Series): Gideon the Ninth [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] / [Audible] Victory City [Libro.fm] / [OverDrive/Libby] / [Audible] The Green Bone Saga (Series): Jade City [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] / [Audible] Blue Skinned Gods [Libro.fm]  Where I Can't Follow [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] / [Audible] We Could Be Heroes [Libro.fm] / [Overdrive/Libby] / [Audible]  

On this episode of The Writer and the Critic, your hosts Kirstyn McDermott and Ian Mond, begin by chatting about cardamon knobs, cygnets and the shenanigans of parkour cats. Seriously. The books up for discussion this month are The Living Sea of Waking Dreams by Richard Flanagan [5:05] and The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera [46:00]. If you've skipped ahead to avoid spoilers, please come back at 1:14:10 for final remarks. Next month, the two books on the slab will be: The Broken Shore by Peter Temple Slow Horses by Mick Herron Read ahead and join in the spoilerific fun!

After Gary enjoyed a weekend at Readercon, we're back with another one-on-one ramble that covers topics from the proliferation of SF awards (and what they really might be for), to some recent and forthcoming books we're excited about (including Kemi Ashing-Giwa's The Splinter in the Sky, Vajra Chandrasekera's The Saint of Bright Doors, Wole Talabi's Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon, and Emily Tesh's Some Desperate Glory), the question of whether anthologies might rightly or wrongly be seen as definitive, and the importance of supporting short fiction publications given some major changes facing the field in 2023. As always, we hope you enjoy the podcast.

Join Bethany and Liene for another installment in the Witcher series readalong! In this episode we discuss Baptism of Fire by Andrzej Sapkowski.   Looking for a book mentioned in the episode? Check here! *Note that all links are affiliate links from which we earn a commission to support the podcast   Book Baptism of Fire by Andrzej Sapkowski: https://amzn.to/3CKzoMf Books from On My Radar A Song of Salvation by Alechia Dow: https://amzn.to/3Xrpb0Y Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle: https://amzn.to/433iu65 The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera: https://amzn.to/42XSpFu The Jasad Heir by Sara Hashem: https://amzn.to/3NwA64W   Follow us on Instagram, Twitter and TikTok @Chapter3Podcast or watch episodes on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCy6yRiktWbWRAFpByrVk-kg Interested in early access to episodes, private Discord channels and other perks? Consider joining the Chapter 3 Patreon!  Co-Hosts  Bethany: https://www.youtube.com/c/beautifullybookishbethany Liene: https://www.youtube.com/c/LienesLibrary Izzy: https://www.youtube.com/c/HappyforNow

Your TBR is about to get longer! This and next week, we will tell you about 25 very on-brand upcoming releases we are looking forward to reading. Books mentioned on this episode: The Stronghold by Dino Buzzati and translated by Lawrence Venuti, The Book that Wouldn't Burn by Mark Lawrence, The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera, Lady Tan's Circle of Women by Lisa See, Crooked Manifesto by Colson Whitehead, Learned by Heart by Emma Donoghue, Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon by Wole Talabi, Goodbye, Eri by Tatsuki Fujimoto, Much Ado About Nada by Uzma Jalaluddin, The Poisoner's Ring by Kelley Armstrong, The Water Outlaws by SL Huang, 24 Hours with Gaspar by Sabda Armandio and translated by Lara Norgaard, Shark Heart by Emily Habeck, Immortal Longings by Chloe Gong, and Whale by Cheon Myeong-kwan and translated by Chi-Young Kim. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/keepitfictional/message

To kick off 2023, Jonathan and Gary share their lists of the books that they're looking forward to reading in 2023. They mention a lot of forthcoming titles, ranging books from old masters like Peter S. Beagle, Howard Waldrop, Joanna Russ, Gene Wolfe, and Connie Willis to newer writers like Samit Basu, Vajra Chandrasekera, Alix E. Harrow, Emily Tesh, and Premee Mohamed, as well as essential collections from Kelly Link, E. Lily Yu, Joanna Russ, K.J. Parker, Sarah Pinsker, and others. The team also cheerfully acknowledge that the year will undoubtedly present us with some complete surprises and that we will be reading fantastic work from authors we haven't even heard of yet. The field seems as lively and promising as ever! Pre-order links Books mentioned in the podcast include: Blade of Dream, Daniel Abraham Conquest, Nina Allan The Jinn-Bot of Shantiport, Samit Basu The Saint of Bright Doors, Vajra Chandrasekera Furious Heaven, Kate Elliott The Landing, Mary Gentle Menewood, Nicola Griffith Starling House, Alix E. Harrow The Water Outlaws, S.L. Huang Thornhedge, T. Kingfisher The Deep Sky, Yume Kitasei Translation State, Ann Leckie White Cat, Black Dog, Kelly Link (collection) The Blue Beautiful World, Karen Lord Hopeland, Ian McDonald No One Will Come Back For Us and Other Stories, Premee Mohamed (collection) The Sinister Booksellers of Bath, Garth Nix Jackal, Jackal: Tales of the Dark and Fantastic, Tobi Ogundiran (collection) Under My Skin, K.J. Parker (collection) He Who Drowned the World, Shelley Parker-Chan Lost Places, Sarah Pinsker (collection) Machine Vendetta, Alastair Reynolds The Navigating Fox, Christopher Rowe Joanna Russ: Novels and Stories, Joanna Russ (collection) Him, Geoff Ryman New Suns 2, Nishi Shawl ed. Ghost Engine, Charles Stross Shigidi and the Brass Head of Obalufon, Wole Talabi Some Desperate Glory, Emily Tesh System Collapse, Martha Wells The Road to Roswell, Connie Willis The Wolfe at the Door, Gene Wolfe (collection) Jewel Box, E. Lily Yu (collection)

I chew the leaf and spit out my red days. They splatter. You chew the leaf and spit out your hours of mad redder. They splatter. They chew the leaf and spit out the reddest moments they have ever seen. They splatter. This is a scene of crime, chalk me, morn me, eve me. My red life drying on my chin. Your red history a bitter powder crust. Their thin red lines, their spun red webs, their red praxis and deceit. | Copyright 2020 by Vajra Chandrasekera. Narrated by Stefan Rudnicki. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I chew the leaf and spit out my red days. They splatter. You chew the leaf and spit out your hours of mad redder. They splatter. They chew the leaf and spit out the reddest moments they have ever seen. They splatter. This is a scene of crime, chalk me, morn me, eve me. My red life drying on my chin. Your red history a bitter powder crust. Their thin red lines, their spun red webs, their red praxis and deceit. | Copyright 2020 by Vajra Chandrasekera. Narrated by Stefan Rudnicki.

This episode features "The Translator, at Low Tide" written by Vajra Chandrasekera. Published in the May 2020 issue of Clarkesworld Magazine and read by Kate Baker. The text version of this story can be found at: http://clarkesworldmagazine.com/chandrasekera_05_20 Support us on Patreon at http://patreon.com/clarkesworld

This episode features "The Translator, at Low Tide" written by Vajra Chandrasekera. Published in the May 2020 issue of Clarkesworld Magazine and read by Kate Baker. The text version of this story can be found at: http://clarkesworldmagazine.com/chandrasekera_05_20 Support us on Patreon at http://patreon.com/clarkesworld

In the tower where the tax collectors go, I am taken blindfolded up steps and through passages and through interminable pauses in open spaces, myself stumbling and held upright through a firm grip on my upper arm. In those pauses, and sometimes in passing while we move, the master of that grip speaks to others, their fellow bailiffs. The content of these exchanges is indistinct to me, a mumbling burr that I can only distinguish from other noises as the recognizably unnatural rhythm of human speech. My other senses have muffled themselves in solidarity with my vision. | Copyright 2019 by Vajra Chandrasekera. Narrated by Stefan Rudnicki. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This episode features "Heron of Earth" written by Vajra Chandrasekera. Published in the June 2018 issue of Clarkesworld Magazine and read by Kate Baker. The text version of this story can be found at: http://clarkesworldmagazine.com/chandrasekera_06_18 Support us on Patreon at http://patreon.com/clarkesworld

This episode features "Heron of Earth" written by Vajra Chandrasekera. Published in the June 2018 issue of Clarkesworld Magazine and read by Kate Baker. The text version of this story can be found at: http://clarkesworldmagazine.com/chandrasekera_06_18 Support us on Patreon at http://patreon.com/clarkesworld

Our third podcast for April is “Left of Bang: Preemptive Self-Actualization for Autonomous Systems” written by Vajra Chandrasekera and read by Kate Baker. Subscribe to our podcast.

Our third podcast for April is “Left of Bang: Preemptive Self-Actualization for Autonomous Systems” written by Vajra Chandrasekera and read by Kate Baker.

In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Vajra Chandrasekera's "Applied Cenotaphics in the Long, Long Longitudes." You can read the full text of the story, and more about Vajra, here.

In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Vajra Chandrasekera's "Sweet Marrow." You can read the full text of the story, and more about Vajra, here.

Grandmother died when I was seven and aliens raided the village. Their long guns fired out of nowhere, shattering walls and smashing bodies. Father threw me to the floor, shielding me, and I didn't see Grandmother die, didn't realize Mother was missing until the raid was over. Father got up and looked outside the house, cautiously; there were shouts of dismay and distress everywhere, and my ears were still ringing from the gunfire. The whole world seemed wreathed in smoke, blurred. My eyes stung. | Copyright 2015 by Vajra Chandrasekera. Narrated by Vikas Adam. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Flash Fiction: “Caul” by Vajra Chandrasekera I only love girls who love to swim, but I don’t like to see them in the water. Like the sea just fine with nobody swimming in it and me with dry sand under me and a cold beer in my hand. They tell me I’m missing something, but I won’t budge. Maybe that’s why they don’t come back. Vajra Chandrasekera lives in Colombo, Sri Lanka. His short fiction has appeared in Clarkesworld, Lightspeed and Black Static, among others. You can follow him on Twitter via @_vajra or find more of his stories at vajra.me.   Main Story: “Two-Headed Girl” by Paul G. Tremblay I have to keep swinging an extra fifteen minutes before I can go downtown and to the Little Red Bookstore, because Mom wants to run the dishwasher and the blender tonight. I wonder if my time on... See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

THE TRUE ALCHEMISTby Sonya Taaffefor Mat JoinerWhatever they left in the garden, Seth, I don’t think it wants to stay there.The man and the woman who came about the gas meter yesterday, or maybe it was the water bill? I had a deadline, I barely noticed them except for the noises they made, the crunch of shoes on stiff grass, scrapes and clangs as if they were wrestling the dustbins back against the garage door, a sudden snap of bracken that startled me until I remembered the rose-canes you’d pulled down in great, dry-cracking armfuls, their petals the soft and blotted brown of foxed paper, dead as the end of Sleeping Beauty——I forgot to call the city to take them away, brambling like baling wire beside the shed...A full transcript appears under the cut:----more----[Music plays]Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode two for April 9th, 2015. I’m your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to be sharing these stories with you.My intro is going to be much shorter than it ought to be this week. Um, it turns out I was sick all of last week and that it was pneumonia. Of all things. I know. Seriously, what are the chances.Although, speaking of chances, I want to thank everyone who took the chance and pledged money toward the GlitterShip Kickstarter campaign. We successfully funded on April 8th and our final tally was $5,015!This means that not only is GlitterShip funded through the first year, but I’ll also be able to bring on other readers for many of the stories going forward, and there will be four episodes a month instead of two, and one story a month will never have been published anywhere ever before!I’m still working on the logistics regarding the submissions period for original fiction, but as soon as I know, I will make an announcement and update the submissions guidelines.This week, I have three very short stories for you by three awesome authors.I’m starting with “The True Alchemist” by Sonya Taaffe.Sonya Taaffe's short fiction and poetry can be found in the collections Ghost Signs (Aqueduct Press), A Mayse-Bikhl (Papaveria Press), Postcards from the Province of Hyphens (Prime Books), and Singing Innocence and Experience (Prime Books), and in anthologies including Aliens: Recent Encounters, Beyond Binary: Genderqueer and Sexually Fluid Speculative Fiction, The Moment of Change: An Anthology of Feminist Speculative Poetry, People of the Book: A Decade of Jewish Science Fiction & Fantasy, The Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror, The Alchemy of Stars: Rhysling Award Winners Showcase, and The Best of Not One of Us. She is currently senior poetry editor at Strange Horizons; she holds master’s degrees in Classics from Brandeis and Yale and once named a Kuiper belt object. She lives in Somerville with her husband and two cats. She maintains a livejournal at Myth Happens.THE TRUE ALCHEMISTby Sonya Taaffefor Mat JoinerWhatever they left in the garden, Seth, I don’t think it wants to stay there.The man and the woman who came about the gas meter yesterday, or maybe it was the water bill? I had a deadline, I barely noticed them except for the noises they made, the crunch of shoes on stiff grass, scrapes and clangs as if they were wrestling the dustbins back against the garage door, a sudden snap of bracken that startled me until I remembered the rose-canes you’d pulled down in great, dry-cracking armfuls, their petals the soft and blotted brown of foxed paper, dead as the end of Sleeping Beauty—I forgot to call the city to take them away, brambling like baling wire beside the shed. Two of the city’s representatives banging around in our back garden and I didn't think to ask them, crouched over my computer with a legion of tea mugs cluttering up among the books and less than sixteen hours before Nora was going to run out of excuses to make to the publisher on my sorry, late-arsed behalf, I didn't even mark the color of their eyes or the length of their hair. They were white as winter sunshine, dressed in coveralls as if for dirtier work than reading a meter. You won’t have any more trouble, sir, the woman said on her way out, or maybe it was the man; I was nearly throwing them out at that point, giving that rattled manic grin that is supposed to pass for comradely homeownership, presumably to soften the slam of door in face—I knew I should have pretended to be sick, or in the shower, or just not at home. I’m a bad liar when I don’t have time to think. I’m too good at it when I do. Seth, the garden’s fucked. Call me tonight or come home. Or both.Seth, I know the conference isn't over till Sunday, but could you just tell them it’s an emergency—the cat’s on fire, the kitchen blew up, your husband is having a baby? I got the article sent off on time and I haven’t slept since. Or I can’t tell if I’m sleeping, rolling over and over through dreams of the same cold, entangling sheets, vacant and huge around one person in this bed that’s a jigsaw puzzle for two, the same little sounds rustling up the back stairs, fanning underneath the windowframe with the icy slip of the air. It sounds like footsteps moving unhurriedly on frost-brittle grass, the squeal and judder of metal dragged over asphalt chips; it sounds like a trampling of dead branches, each as sharp and sick as a bone-break, the knuckle-pop crackling of twigs wrung like a neck. So fast. I think murder instead of horticulture, intruders instead of rats or the cats that hunt them. The swimming cathedral light before dawn looks like the underside of water to a long-drowned man. I made a point of shaving, combing my hair, putting on a different sweater. I haven’t been out all day. I've taken all my pills, including the ones I try to ration; Nora knows I'm feeling skittish—it’s not like she can pretend not to when I turn in a page and a half of self-recrimination with the other twenty-five about Philoktetes and the poisons and cures of language. I'll call Dr. Linsey if it gets much weirder. I won’t call anyone. I’m crap at self-care. I’ll just sit here drinking our ever-diminishing hoard of tea and typing run-on sentences, knowing it’s not like New York is three days away by transatlantic steamer anymore and it doesn't matter. Our neighbors are right there on the other side of the kitchen window—washing dishes, in fact, side by side with soapy plates and dishrag in some urban equivalent of a tranquil, pastoral scene—and it doesn't matter. I might as well be on the far side of the moon. If the moon were haunted by the smell of oil and leaf-mold, slick as a slug’s track or petrol-spill. Seth, this is bad. I hate that fucking mobile, I wouldn't check my e-mail on it to win a bet, but I've started carrying it like a locket, as if it really contained something of you. I’d check the gas meter if I could go outside. Or the water. I went outside. I want to stress that very carefully. I unlocked the back door and I went down and I stood in the garden, freezing, hugging myself over the sweater I hadn't thought to supplement with a jacket or even a scarf, breathing out sharp quick clouds that hurt as much to draw breath for as it did to stand there with the no-colored sun in my eyes, the sky pressing down on my hair and my shoulders and the backs of my hands, seeing me. The neighbors with their curtainless windows, locked in newlywed oblivion: two mirrors gazing into each other endlessly. Passing cars, passers-by, graffiti hanging over the wall. The air.Our garden, Seth. It doesn't move after all. It might be a machine, if machines were pinned and carved from rose-thorns and rain-torn petals and withered cuttings, blown dandelions and willowherb wreathed in seed-silk like a questioning cigarette; it might have grown there, if rails of brick-spiked iron and clagged tin could throw out runners, coil delicately to follow the sun. There was a ragged round of copper crept in green from the edges, turning like a suncatcher as the verdigris crawled. There was a spiderweb beaded from one prong of fused glass to a tarnished silver spike of lamb’s ear, glittering cleanly in the morning chill. It saw me. That was when I went upstairs, and I left a message at your hotel, and I did not take any more of my pills than I was supposed to, and I went to bed. It was cold and bright and the sounds came up through the walls, from nothing moving around where the neighbors, or me, or anything at all could see. After a while it started to sound familiar. After that I really couldn't sleep. I dreamed anyway. There was a door. How is this supposed to end, Seth? You’d drop everything if I checked myself in, but I don’t want to be that hungry ghost when I don’t need to, Eurydike-reeling myself in and out of the dark to see if you’ll brave it one more time for me; I don’t want you to find me with an empty bottle or emptier wrists, curled in the rime-blackened ruins of our garden like a child on a cold hill’s side. You've got epidemics to talk about and I've got my contagion here at home, allowed passage like every good haunting—any more trouble, but then maybe I don’t. It smells very strongly like burning now, acrid as antifreeze, sweet as spiced woods, and I think of an engine turning over, cogs and pistons and sap and steam. I think of pavement cracking like a caddis-husk, ice-starred earth rumbling like a drum. If it doesn't want to stay here, Seth, I won’t stop it: I’ll hold the gate for it just as I let it in, or I’ll sit here and drink the last of the black ginger tea, typing sentences that don’t stop as usual; we’ll get more when you’re home. The cat’s not on fire. The garden’s fucked, but aren't we all? Maybe it will tell me when it goes, knowing we feel the same way about an audience. I’m truthful when I need to be, too.ENDOur next story is “Ulder” by Vajra Chandrasekera.Vajra lives in Colombo, Sri Lanka. His stories have appeared in Clarkesworld, Black Static, and Shimmer, among others. You can find more work by him at vajra.me.ULDERby Vajra Chandrasekera“Ulder,” said the man in the hat, leaning in, lips barely moving. His eyes darted, as if anyone else on the train would hear him through their prophylactic earplugs. We were the only two with ears open."What?" I said, too loud. The man in the hat leaned away, mouth tight, beard bristling. He didn't look at me again.At the station, guardsmen took the man in the hat away. I watched them go out of the corner of my eye; they'd knocked his hat off when they took him down, and his hair was tousled from the scuffle. I couldn't see the hat anywhere, but there were so many people on the platform. I imagined it, briefly, crushed and stepped on somewhere in the press.I mentioned the word to Kirill in bed that night, and he stiffened, asked me where I'd heard it."He didn't tell you what it meant?" Kirill asked when I'd told him the story."What does it mean? Do you know?"Kirill hesitated so long that I prodded him to see if he'd fallen asleep. "You know I hate it when you keep secrets," I said."Don't be melodramatic," Kirill said.And then he told me what the word meant.It was several days before I thought to ask him how he had known the word. I spent those days in a haze, raw and newborn. The wind seemed colder. I started letting my beard grow. The long bones in my shins felt weak, as if from fever. And the word, it reverberated in me, growing echoes like fungi in the dark.Ulder, I said to myself at my desk, working and writing. But only inside, so that the other people in my office wouldn't hear me. I needn't have worried; they all wore prophylactics anyway.Ulder, I said to myself when I saw uniforms on the street, guardsmen arresting someone.("Disappearing," Kirill had once said, early in our acquaintance. "Not arresting, disappearing them." And I only thought, this man is free and beautiful. But if I had known the word then I would not have thought ulder, because Kirill was never that.)Ulder, I whispered when they broadcast the prayer-anthems, tinny from loudspeakers, in the evening as I walked to the railway station. I used to mumble along to the prayers out of habit, never seeing what was in front of me.Ulder, ulder, ulder.I said it out loud the next time Kirill and I slept together. It had been almost a week, because we couldn't afford to be seen together too often. Kirill flinched as soon as I said it. He rolled out of bed, lighting one of his contraband cigarettes."Now who's being melodramatic?" I said.The cigarettes were very Kirill. That was both the extent and the nature of his rebellion; slick, sly, sweet-smelling, carcinogenic."I was afraid you'd react to it this way," Kirill said. "Some are immune to memetically transmitted disease. But you--""MTDs don't exist," I said. "I've told you, it's just state propaganda against disapproved ideologies. Ulder--""Don't say it to me," Kirill said, laughing his bitter tar laugh and coughing. "What do you know about it? I was the one who told--"I don't want to talk about the fight. That's not the way I want to remember him. But we shouted a lot, and I think someone must have heard.A few more days went by, and I wanted to make it up to him. So I went to see him at the teahouse where we usually met after work. But even as I got there, I knew from the commotion that something was wrong. I didn't recognize Kirill's walk at first, pressed between the guardsmen as they marched him out of the building and into the waiting van. I only realized it was him when he laughed, bitter like tar.Not knowing what else to do, I took the train home. It was crowded, as always, and I hung from the strap like a drowning man. And when the young woman, the only other person in the carriage without earplugs in, caught my eye, I didn't have a choice.I knew what would happen, that it wouldn't go unremarked, that you'd be waiting for me on the platform with your batons.But in her eyes I saw a moment of openness, that fragile and fractured thing I had always seen in the mirror and never recognized until I heard the word, and though I knew she wouldn't understand and I couldn't explain, I leaned in and said “Ulder”, the word naked and bright like fever in my mouth.ENDOur next story is "The Sewell Home for the Temporally Displaced" by Sarah Pinsker.Sarah Pinsker is the author of the novelette, "In Joy, Knowing the Abyss Behind," Sturgeon Award winner 2014 and Nebula finalist 2013. Her fiction has been published in magazines including Asimov's, Strange Horizons, Fantasy & Science Fiction, Lightspeed, Daily Science Fiction, The Journal of Unlikely Cartography, Fireside, Stupefying Stories, and PULP Literature, and in anthologies including Long Hidden, Fierce Family, and The Future Embodied.She is also a singer/songwriter with three albums on various independent labels (the third with her rock band, the Stalking Horses) and a fourth forthcoming. She lives in Baltimore, Maryland and can be found online at sarahpinsker.com and twitter.com/sarahpinsker.THE SEWELL HOME FOR THE TEMPORALLY DISPLACEDby Sarah PinskerJudy says, "It's snowing."I look out the window. The sky is the same dirty grey as the snow left from last week's storm. I stand up to look closer, to find a backdrop against which I might see what she sees. The radiator is warm against my knees."You don't mean now." It's not really a question, but she shakes her head. She looks through me, through another window, at other weather. She smiles. Whenever she is, it must be beautiful."Describe it for me," I say."Big, fluffy snow. The kind that doesn't melt when it lands on your gloves. Big enough to see the shapes of individual flakes.""Do you know when you are?"She strains to catch a different view. "1890s, maybe? The building across the street hasn't been built yet. I wish I could see down to the street, Marguerite."Judy isn't supposed to leave her bed, but I help her into her yellow slippers, help her to her feet. I try to make myself strong enough for her to lean on. We shuffle to the window. She looks down."There's a Brougham* waiting at the front door. The horse is black, and he must have been driven hard, because the snow that's collecting elsewhere is just melting when it hits him. There's steam coming off him."I don't say anything. I can't see it, but I can picture it."Somebody came out of the building. He's helping a woman out of the carriage," she says. "Her clothes don't match the era or the season. She's wearing jeans and a T-shirt.""A Distillers T-shirt," I say."Yes! Can you see her too?""No," I say. "That was me, the first time I came here. I didn't stay long, that first time."I hear the creak of the door. It's Zia, my least favorite of the nurses. She treats us like children. "Judy, what are we doing up? We could get hurt if we have an episode."She turns to me. "And you, Marguerite. We should know better to encourage her.""Your pronouns are very confusing," I tell her.She ignores me. "Well, let's get down to lunch, since we're both up and about."Zia puts Judy in a wheelchair. I follow them down to the dining room, slow and steady. She pushes Judy up to the first available space, at a table with only one vacancy. I'm forced to sit across the room. I don't like being so far away from her. I would make a fuss, but I try to tell myself we can stand to be apart for one meal. I keep an eye on her anyway.Judy isn't fully back yet. She doesn't touch her food. Mr. Kahn and Michael Lim and Grace de Villiers are all talking across her. Mr. Kahn is floating his spoon, demonstrating the finer points of the physics of his first time machine, as he always does."Meatloaf again," mutters Emily Arnold, to my left. "I can't wait until vat protein is invented.""It tastes good enough, Emily. The food here is really pretty decent for an industrial kitchen in this time period." We've all had worse.We eat our meatloaf. Somebody at the far end of the room has a major episode and we're all asked to leave before we get our jello. I can't quite see who it is, but she's brandishing her butter knife like a cutlass, her legs braced against a pitching deck. The best kind of episode, where you're fully then again. We all look forward to those. It's funny that the staff act like it might be contagious. I wait in Judy's room for her to return. Zia wheels her in and lifts her into the bed. She's light as a bird, my Judy. Zia frowns when she sees me. I think she'd shoo me out more often if either of us had family that could lodge a complaint. Michael and Grace are allowed to eat together but not to visit each other's rooms. Grace's children think she shouldn't have a relationship now that she lives in so many times at once. Too confusing, they say, though Grace doesn't know whether they mean for them or for her."How was your dinner?" I ask Judy."I can't remember," she says. "But I saw you come in for the first time. You said 'How is this place real?' and young Mr. Kahn said 'Because someday all of us will build it.'""And then I asked 'When can I get started?' and he said 'You already did.'"I can see it now. The dining room was formal, then. Everyone stared when I came in, but most of the smiles were knowing ones. They understood the hazards of timesling. They had been there, or they were there, or they were going to be.Judy takes my hand. I lean over to kiss her."It's snowing," I say. "I can't wait to meet you."END*Brougham was changed to "carriage" for the audio version.“The True Alchemist” was first published in Not One of Us #51 in April 2014. “Ulder” was first published in Daily Science Fiction in July 2014. “The Sewell Home for the Temporally Displaced” was first published in the Women Destroy Science Fiction edition of Lightspeed Magazine in June 2014. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library.Thanks for listening, and I’ll talk to you again on April 9th with a selection of three flash fiction stories.[Music plays out]This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Our first piece of audio fiction for July is "Pockets Full of Stones" written by Vajra Chandrasekera and read by Kate Baker. Subscribe to our podcast.