Wednesday, December 24, 2025

The Pleasures of Reading, Viewing, and Listening in 2025, pt. 15: Ritch Calvin

 


Pleasures of Reading: All about Knowledge  

by Ritch Calvin 

 

 

Sometimes, readings students’ writing feel like drudgery; sometimes, it is such a pleasure.

 So, for the past 6 months, or so, I have been heavily steeped in reading epistemology.


 If you have followed me at all, that shouldn’t be surprising. After all, my 2016 book was titled: Feminist Science Fiction and Feminist Epistemology; it’s right there in the title. Further, I wrote about epistemology in Pleasures of Reading 2022 edition.

 However, in my previous encounters, I had been heavily focused on Western epistemology. I’d read Aristotle and Plato, Descartes and Quine, Locke and Hume, etc., etc.

But in early 2025, I was asked to teach a revamped class for the Honors College called a History of Human Understanding. I was provided with a few sample syllabi, and I said “No thanks” to that. Those syllabi, too, were completely focused on Western epistemology. I informed the Honors College that, if I were to teach the class, it would include much more diverse readings. They said, “Fantastic!”

 And the great read-a-thon began.

 I spent Spring and Summer prepping for the class and trying to wrestle (a nod to Plato) a syllabus into shape. So much to cover. So many false starts. So many discarded attempts.

 In the end, we did read four texts from the Western tradition.

 Beyond that, we read Chinese epistemology, Indian epistemology, African epistemology, African diaspora epistemology, Native American epistemology, indigenous epistemology, feminist epistemology, queer epistemology, trans epistemology, epistemology and science, epistemology and democracy, epistemology and medicine, epistemology and fake news.

 Many of you will note that most of the epistemologies mentioned are vast and complex. Indeed, they are. We could have spent the entire semester on any one of them. But we did discuss that problem and what it means to reduce an entire culture to a few “representative” texts. It is the very nature of introductory level courses.

 One of the things that students noticed and discussed (frequently) was the fact that the Western epistemological tradition (or at least some of it) centers on the individual knower. In Plato’s Theaetetus, it is a question of whether or not Theaetetus can know anything or not. In Descartes’s Meditations, he distrusts his senses and all those around him, and he retreats into his own mind. Only what he as an individual thinks is knowledge.

 On the other hand, the non-Western epistemologies see knowledge as both a communal effort and a relative thing. The knowledge is produced by all the individuals—across generations—and is handed down and shared. As such, they are less interested in universal Truths and more interested in what is relevant for their own existence. They recognize that what may be true for their community might not be true for another community.

Furthermore, the vast majority of my students were taken by the lower-case truths of community-based knowledge. At the same time, they were largely flummoxed by the idea that these small communities were perfectly content with the “stagnation” and were not motivated by “progress.” Nevertheless, they seemed to take comfort in the idea of knowledge as a communal project.

 And then we turned to generative AI. (Ah, there is already so much to read about AI!) We read about how large language models (LLMS) work—and don’t. Whether what AIs produce is “knowledge”—or not.  And about the ways in which LLMs replicate the marginalizations and biases that we already see in society. We also tried out a few AIs in class to see how useful they were as a learning tool. Almost to a person, they rejected the AIs we used. They did not think they were useful (except maybe to create study guides). They believed that what the AIs produced was meaningless unless they had already read the source material.

 And the students were so enthusiastic. For one, they loved the fact that the class did not focus on Western thought. They were already well aware of the Western tradition (or so they thought). For another, they were eager to read an expansive history of epistemology. Many noted how refreshing it was to read something from their own culture. And finally, they were eager to see some of the ways in which it directly impacts their own lives.

 As I am writing this essay, I am bouncing back and forth between writing this reflection and grading the final essays from the class. And I have to say, reading these 24 essays written by 18-year-olds is the real pleasure of reading. These final essays by this group of first-year college students have been fantastic.

 For their essay, they were asked to consider the long tradition of knowledge as the product of an individual and the long tradition of knowledge as a product of a community. Finally, they were asked to consider how the emergence of generative AI supported or undermined those two traditions. What does knowledge consist of today?

 They examine both the pros and cons of Western epistemological models. They examine the pros and cons of non-Western epistemological traditions. They’re thoughtful, and articulate, and engaged.

 And then they turn to what AI has wrought.

 The results are both devastating and heartening. They engage with these ideas in meaningful ways. They recognize the importance of these questions. And they are grappling with the role of these new tools in their lives.

 It is science-fictional thinking of the first order, and the task has been a complete pleasure.

 

Ritch Calvin (he/him) has published essays in Extrapolation, Femspec, Science Fiction Film and Television, Science Fiction Studies, New York Review of Science Fiction, and SFRA Review. His bibliography of the works of Octavia E. Butler appeared in Utopian Studies in 2008. His first edited collection, on Gilmore Girls, appeared in 2007. In 2014, he edited (with Doug Davis, Karen Hellekson, and Craig Jacobsen) a volume of essays entitled SF 101: An Introduction to Teaching and Studying Science Fiction. In 2016, he published Feminist Epistemology and Feminist Science Fiction: Four Modes (Palgrave). He has published three volumes with Aqueduct: The Merril Theory of Lit'ry Criticism (edited, 2016), Queering SF: Readings (2022), and Queering SF Comics: Readings (2024). He is currently working on a volume on short science fiction film (with Paweł Frelik) and a book on C. J. Cherryh.

He was a juror for the 2014 Philip K. Dick Award and for the 2018 James Tiptree Award (Otherwise). He lives on Long Island. One of his chickens has now decided that she lives inside the house.

 

Tuesday, December 23, 2025

The Pleasures of Reading, Viewing, and Listening in 2025, pt. 14: Gwynne Garfinkle


 

Reading Pleasures of 2025

by Gwynne Garfinkle

 

 

 


Charlie Jane Anders, Lessons in Magic and Disaster. Jamie, a trans witch and grad student, teaches her mother Serena to do magic, in the hope it will help her move on from years of grieving her late wife, Jamie's other mom. But while Serena readily takes to witchcraft, this disrupts Jamie's life in ways she never could have imagined. The novel interweaves Jamie's present-day narrative with the story of her mothers, starting in the 1990s, along with (fictional) excerpts from the 18th-century English literature that is the subject of her dissertation. (As a long-time fan of Dale Spender's Mothers of the Novel, I loved this novel's celebration of 18th-century women writers.) Anders' writing is brilliant, quirky, and full of heart.

 

John Wiswell, Wearing the Lion. This deft, profoundly empathetic retelling of the labors of Heracles is by turns delightful and devastating. Good-natured Heracles is clueless that his adored Auntie Hera can't stand him (because he's a reminder of Zeus's philandering). Her lashing out inadvertently leads to the death of Heracles's children, and Hera sends him on quest after quest in an attempt to hide her guilt. What follows is a wonderful tale of found family and lovable monsters, including an affable hydra and a lion named Purrseus. I kept wanting to give Heracles a hug. (The audiobook, narrated by Elizabeth Klett and Christian Black, is superb.)

 


Nisi Shawl, The Day and Night Books of Mardou Fox (2024). As a one-time Kerouac nerd, I was eager to read this speculative novella inspired by Alene Lee, the Black writer Kerouac used as the basis for the character of Mardou in The Subterraneans. Shawl centers Mardou's voice by telling her story in journal entries. In one passage, Mardou recounts how Leo (Kerouac) sent a story of hers to his publisher without her permission, and, even worse, "added his own ending. A collaboration, he called it." Mardou's mystical experiences add another dimension to this unique book.

 

Amal El-Mohtar, The River Has Roots. An exquisite tale about sisterly love and the magic of music, based on the murder ballad "The Cruel Sister." Contemporary stories about faerie are often not my jam, but this one enchanted me. The hardcover edition is gorgeous, with illustrations by Kathleen Neeley.

 

Sarah Gailey, Spread Me. This wild ride of a novella is a queer, erotic take on The Thing, replete with unsettling body horror. Very weird, tense, and riveting.

 

 


 

Rachel Harrison, Play Nice. When Clio's estranged mother Alex dies, Clio decides to renovate her childhood home, which Alex claimed to be haunted. In the process, Clio unearths buried family secrets, as well as the truth about the entity living in the house. More ambitious in structure than Harrison's previous works, this novel includes sections from Alex's paranormal tell-all book about her side of the story.

 

Paul Tremblay, Another. A preteen artist with an anxiety disorder is gradually replaced by a doppelganger, and his parents don't seem to notice or care. Tremblay's first foray into middle-grade fiction is creepy and genuinely upsetting, but it's also a heartwarming paean to the power of making art.

 

Chris Kraus, The Four Spent the Day Together. This compulsively readable novel blends autofiction and true crime reportage, amplifying both stories in the process. Kraus's exploration of class, social media, and addiction sometimes makes for an uncomfortable read, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about this book.

 

Marian Engel, Bear (1976). My favorite backlist discovery of the year. When I saw its lurid mass-market paperback cover on Bluesky--an erotic novel about a woman and a bear?!--I was not expecting this quiet masterpiece (which won the Governor General's Literary Award). I really must read more by Engel.


 

Sienna Tristen, Hortus Animarum: A New Herbal for the Queer Heart (2022). These prose poems are so full of sonic lusciousness, I couldn't stop highlighting phrases in the ebook. From "white bindweed": "I am sick to my mallowbee stomach with watching them try & control you for oh how I cherish my nosenudge in the throat of your corolla, oh how I treasure the ephemeral scent of your rarefied afternoon high--oh how I love a thing that flourishes best in disturbed earth." (Hat tip to Mary Soon Lee, who chose this chapbook for SFWA's poetry book club.)

 


Maggie Nelson, Pathemata, Or, The Story of My Mouth. I've been dealing with jaw dysfunction for years, so I was curious about this account of Nelson's efforts to find a cure for hers. Melding everyday life and dreams, this lyrical work is a meditation on pain and the desperation to find relief. Nelson discusses in rueful detail the quack treatments she contemplates against her better judgment. She writes: "Sometimes I wonder what I would have thought about all these years, if I hadn’t spent so much time thinking about the pain. Then I remember that I’ve thought about a lot of other things as well. Also, I'm not sure the goal of life is to think about as many things as possible." This year Nelson also published the slim volume The Slicks: On Sylvia Plath and Taylor Swift, an incisive study of ambition, fame, misogyny, poetry, and pop culture.

 

Chloe Caldwell, Trying. Like Pathemata, this memoir uses a specific medical issue (infertility) as a jumping-off point for an unpredictable journey. Halfway through the book, which Caldwell wrote in real time, her marriage crashes and burns, and her life (and the book) opens up as she reclaims her queer identity.

 

Eleanor Johnson, Scream With Me: Horror Films and the Rise of American Feminism (1968-1980). This study of domestic horror would have benefited from a more intersectional analysis. Still, Johnson's discussion of the status of reproductive rights, laws against marital rape and domestic abuse, and the Equal Rights Amendment when films like Rosemary's Baby, The Exorcist, and The Stepford Wives were released is illuminating.


 

Becky Siegel Spratford (editor), Why I Love Horror: Essays on Horror Literature. This wide-ranging collection includes personal essays by such horror luminaries as Tananarive Due, Stephen Graham Jones, Victor LaValle, Gabino Iglesias, and Alma Katsu.

 

Patti Smith, Bread of Angels. I'm currently savoring Patti Smith's latest memoir, a life-spanning self-portrait of the artist, in prose both gritty and luminous. Smith is a national treasure; in these tough times, I'm grateful for her enduring voice.

 



Gwynne Garfinkle lives in Los Angeles. She is the author of a novel, Can't Find My Way Home (2022), and two collections, Singing, Singing (2024) and People Change (2018), all published by Aqueduct Press. Her fiction and poetry have appeared in such publications as Strange Horizons, Fantasy, Uncanny, Escape Pod, Apex, Penumbric, and Not One of Us.

 

 

Monday, December 22, 2025

The Pleasures of Reading, Viewing, and Listening in 2025, pt.13: Cheryl Morgan

 


The Pleasures of Reading, Viewing, and Listening in 2025

 by Cheryl Morgan

The trouble with running a publishing company is that you end up reading lots of books that you can’t review. Not to mention a whole bunch of books that may never get published. This has been cutting down the amount of reading for review that I can do a lot.

Having said that, I’d like to start this year by heaping praise on something we did publish. I am truly honored to have Chaz Brenchley’s Of the Emperor’s Kindness in our catalogue. It is an amazing piece of work.


Chaz, of course, has been around a long time. One of the dreams for a small press is to discover someone brilliant at the start of their career. My friend, Francesca Barbini, who runs Luna Press Publishing, did that with Lorraine Wilson. Raine, as she prefers to be called, has now made the step up to working with Solaris, and she has produced two fabulous novels for them. We Are All Ghosts in the Forest and The Salt Road are set in a post-collapse world which is haunted by the ghosts of things on the internet. Quite how that can be is never explained, but I think that just adds to the atmosphere.

This has been a year in which there is a new novel by Guy Gavriel Kay. That’s always a cause for celebration. Written on the Dark lives up to the very high standards that Kay sets for himself. Novels by Nalo Hopkinson are rather less frequent, but Blackheart Man has finally seen print and is well worth the many years I have been waiting for it.


I am trying to read more books by trans people because I worry that, in the current political environment, they will be finding it very difficult to sell new work. Charlie Jane Anders is perhaps the highest profile trans writer these days, and I think that Lessons in Magic & Disaster is the best thing she has done. M M Olivas is at the start of her career, but Sundown in San Ojuela is a very promising piece of horror that I think should appeal to fans of Liz Hand.

 

Other novels that have stood out for me over the past year are The Tapestry of Time by Kate Heartfield, Alien Clay by the amazingly prolific Adrian Tchaikovsky, The Folded Sky by Elizabeth Bear, and Tomb of Dragons by Katherine Addison.

I have been reading a lot of novellas because they are short and that enables me to up my review count. I had to do some catch up for award season, and very much enjoyed The Dead Cat Tail Assassins by P. Djèlí Clark. However, it is my personal opinion that The Practice, The Horizon and the Chain by Sophia Samatar should have won all the awards.


For this year I am continuing to enjoy various ongoing novella series including The Potency of Ungovernable Impulses by Malka Older, The Gnomes of Lychford by Paul Cornell, What Stalks the Deep by T Kingfisher and A Mouthful of Dust by Nghi Vo.

I have been reading a lot of Welsh folklore of late, primarily because of an anthology we will be publishing next year. Most of these tales are at best short story length, and often mere vignettes, but there is plenty of potential in them. To experience the true weirdness (and queerness) of Welsh myth, however, you need to read The Mabinogion. It is seriously strange and has some amazing gender explorations.

 


Most of my non-fiction reading has been about the ancient world, and feminist. Immaculate Forms by Helen King is a history of medical views of women’s bodies from Classical Greece forward. Honestly, men, what were you thinking? Mythica, by Emily Hauser, is a wonderful history of Bronze Age Europe told through the lens of the women of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. And Carthage by Eve MacDonald asks what we can know about this famous ancient civilisation (founded by a woman) given that the Romans utterly destroyed its written culture.

More generally I enjoyed Queer as Folklore by my friend and sometime colleague, Sacha Coward, which won the non-fiction prize in this year’s British Fantasy Awards. I also liked Patriarchy Inc. by Cordelia Fine, despite the unfortunate fact that a book that points out the shortcomings of DEI initiatives is now rather redundant.

The standout TV series of the year was Kaos. All of my Classicist friends absolutely loved it, and I can see why. I am distraught that it got cancelled because it robbed us of a resolution of the storylines. Ari & Dion 4 Ever!

The TV version of Murderbot seemed to work well, though I will always prefer the books. Somewhat to my surprise, the TV version of Foundation (to which I am late, and of which I have only seen season 1 so far) is not a hot mess, and is much better than the books.


There have been various Marvel TV shows and movies released this year, but the only one I would recommend is Thunderbolts. Here’s hoping that, after all the build-up, the new Avengers films work well. Personally I am looking forward to Young Avengers. We have seen a lot of the cast now, and anything with Kamala Khan in it is going to be good.

 

Viewing also includes museum exhibitions. This year the British Library put on Mediaeval Women. There was an amazing collection of original documents on show, including those pertaining to the 14th Century English trans woman, Eleanor Rykener. Much of the exhibition did take a rather stereotypical view of what a woman is, and what her role in society should be, but the stand-out exhibit for me was the letter signed by Joan of Arc herself.

I also got to visit Copenhagen. The Danish National Museum is worth a look just for the Gundestrup Cauldron. It is an astonishing piece of metalwork.


The highlight of my music year has been Solas, a new double album from our local heroes here in Carmarthenshire. Adwaith is a female rock trio who have built up a stellar reputation in Wales. Their lyrics are all in Welsh, but the music can be enjoyed by anyone who loves a good guitar and drum band.

If you must have lyrics in English, you will be pleased that the new album from Gwenno has a lot of that – a marked departure from her previous song writing in Welsh and Cornish. Utopia is her poppiest album yet. Here’s hoping that it wins her some fans outside of the Celtic countries.

 

 Cheryl Morgan blogs, reviews and podcasts regularly at Cheryl’s Mewsings and Salon Futura. She is the owner of Wizard’s Tower Press. She also lectures regularly on topics of SF&F literature, and on queer history.