​“Set in the near future, Addict combines the engrossing, tenebrous elements of 1930s noir crime fiction with the spectacle and possibility of science fiction.”
​– Extract from my review of Book 1 in this series.


I wanted to read LV48 as soon as its release was announced. Not only was it written by Matt Doyle, a highly active and positive member of the online LGBTQIA+ community, but the title was clearly a nod to Aliens – which happens to be on of my favourite movies.

This is the third book in the Cassie Tam series, a collection of futuristic crime noir stories set in the ever-fascinating city of New Hopeland. Manipulated and controlled by a complex criminal network, Doyle continues to work wonders as he explores New Hopeland’s shadowy underworld. It would be difficult to understand the intricacies of the plot without having read the first two, and so I hope readers pick up ‘Addict’ and ‘The Fox, the Dog, and the King’ before delving into LV48. That said, the author has done well to guide readers back into the city’s inner-circle.

This story is—much to my delight—a little lighter on Cassie’s internal monologue and heavier on dialogue and action. The scenes in set in the hospital were particularly exciting; a well-written climax indeed. There are some vague hints about Cassie’s past but, on the whole, characterisation stagnates a little in this instalment. This was fine though, because the focus was more to do with Fuerza’s tightening (or, perhaps, loosening) grip of the city. Cassie’s romance with Lori bookends the mystery plot, as it did with Book 2, acting as a soft form of cushioning for the reader. Given Hanson is a favourite of mine, I was excited to see her appear in more scenes (though, of course, I wanted to see her get a girlfriend). Doyle continues to provide imaginative and intricate detail regarding the operation of technology in his fictional world. In this case, he has concocted a rather magnificent exoskeleton used by the antagonist/s to attack their victims.
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This series is palatable and well-executed on the whole. If you like old-school crime fiction (think Bogart or Ford) but with lesbians, mechanical vampires, and psychedelic light shows, then this is the book for you.

Amazon Purchase Link

BLURB:

In the near future, world wars have transformed the earth into a battleground. Fleeing the unending violence and the planet’s now-radioactive surface, humans have regrouped to a mysterious platform known as CIEL, hovering over their erstwhile home. The changed world has turned evolution on its head: the surviving humans have become sexless, hairless pale-white creatures floating in isolation, inscribing stories upon their skin.

Out of the ranks of the endless wars rises Jean de Men, a charismatic and bloodthirsty cult leader who turns CIEL into a quasi-corporate police state. A group of rebels unite to dismantle his iron rule—galvanized by the heroic song of Joan, a child-warrior who possesses a mysterious force that lives within her and communes with the earth. When de Men and his armies turn Joan into a martyr, the consequences are astonishing. And no one—not the rebels, Jean de Men, or even Joan herself—can foresee the way her story and unique gift will forge the destiny of an entire world for generations.

A riveting tale of destruction and love found in direst of places—even at the extreme end of post-human experience—Lidia Yuknavitch’s The Book of Joan raises questions about what it means to be human, the fluidity of sex and gender, and the role of art as means for survival.

REVIEW:

This review was originally published by Aurealis Magazine. Review by Rebecca Langham.

The Book of Joan is a post-apocalyptic sci-fi that catapults Joan of Arc and Christine de Pizan, a prominent medieval author, into the future. The maid becomes Joan of Dirt, an enigmatic child who comes to understand as the story progresses that she is something beyond crude muscle and human consciousness.

Christine is a translucent, hairless woman who, like almost everyone else, has lost her genitalia. She is part of a group that live on CIEL, a space platform that protects from the irradiated dirt Joan is intrinsically connected to. Christine is a writer like her fourteenth century counterpart, except that stories in her world are burned into grafts of flesh attached to bodies like grotesque accessories. Most flesh-stories reflect an obsession with gratuitous sex. There is ongoing battle between the misogynistic pornography written by antagonist Jean de Men and Christine’s stories that challenge the androcentric zeitgeist.

Yuknavitch demonstrates a distinct flair for language. Beautiful prose reflects upon philosophical themes. What is the place of humanity in the galaxy? What purpose does life have when it can no longer cultivate more life? What role do narratives play in the creation and maintenance of identity—collective and individual? Fascinating questions, and Yuknavitch’s impressive imagination soars as she engages readers in an unusual journey to find answers.

The plot, its characters and settings are unique, with the potential to both captivate and repulse readers. The novel delivers on promises of feminist, environmentalist and transhumanist themes, but in a violent manner that is tough to swallow. Women are victims of confronting and horrific mutilation.
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The story also hints at the notion that women ultimately have responsibility for the perpetuation and moral-policing of life and must fulfil that responsibility no matter the cost. As such, despite its undeniable intelligence and unbridled originality, The Book of Joan is not for everyone.

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Blurb
 
Sera is the last runner from Earth, bringing badly needed supplies to the Tharassas Colony across a twenty-five year gulf between the planets. Jas works on a hencha farm to make ends meet, harvesting berries from the semi-sentient plants.
 
Neither one that knows their lives—and worlds—are about to change forever.
 
Buy Links:
 
Amazon eBook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WWH579T/
Amazon Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1688284907/








Excerpt:
 
Sera’s back arched as she gulped a lungful of air, her eyes bulging out of their sockets. She collapsed back on the memory foam of her sleep pod, sucking oxygen into her lungs gratefully.

It was a bit stale, but not immediately fatal—a good sign given how they escaped near-certain destruction by the skin of their teeth, as Earth and her local colonies fell into chaos and self-imposed destruction.

Sera’s throat was raw, dry—the antiseptic spray either hadn’t worked or hadn’t been administered by the Spin Diver’s wake-up protocols. “Waaaater.”

A slim white feeder line slipped down from above to mouth level. She took the sipper between her lips and sucked in the gloriously wet liquid.

Like the air, it tasted a bit off. She sighed. Time enough to figure that out later.

She drank her fill and sat up, swinging her feet off the edge of the couch to look around the sleep room.

The other three pods were dark.

“Tavi!” Sera slipped off the couch and winced. Every one of her muscles ached.

She hobbled her way to the closest pod. Please—no.

It felt like just minutes before—when their fingers had been intertwined, Tavi giving her a quick kiss as the ship shuddered all around them, the air filling with noxious smoke. Staring at each other as the hardened plas lids slid closed over them.

Sera fumbled with the manual release controls on Tavi’s pod, frantic. They were unresponsive, as dark as the pod itself.

Sera stumbled to the wall and retrieved the axe that was strapped there for emergencies. She managed to lift it up, her shoulder muscles on fire from the weight. She brought it down blade-first on the plas cover of the dark sleep pod. The reinforced plas cracked but didn’t break.

She lifted the axe again and brought it down hard on the slick surface.

The axe blade skittered across the smooth shell, and the handle slipped out of her grasp. The axe fell on the metallic floor on the far side of the pod with a loud clatter in the deceleration-created gravity.

Sera squeezed past the pod to retrieve it, sparing a quick glance for the two unoccupied pods.

Jace and Herrol hadn’t even made it to the ship. They were long dead by now.

Sera lifted the axe once more and brought it down on the cover with all her weakened strength.

The plas shattered at last, revealing the pod’s contents.

The musky smell of decay slammed into Sera, driving her back toward the exit hatch. She couldn’t believe that it was true—that Tavi was long dead, her corpse a shrunken mess of bones and dried flesh.

“Oh God.” Sera stumbled backward and slammed her hand on the hatch release. She practically fell through it, slamming her hand on the door control outside.

It spiraled closed, shutting off the horrible sight, but leaving the sickly-sweet smell lingering in the air.

Sera fell to her knees and retched.

After almost twenty-five years in suspension, there was nothing left in her to come out, but still her stomach heaved. It was a primal reaction, far beyond her ability to control. She’s gone.

Then she just lay there, wrecked and broken. “Tavi.” How did this happen?

Time slowed and dilated.

Her mind refused to process what she had just seen. It was too visceral, too real.

Too painful.

She closed her eyes and sobbed.

​
 
Author Bio:
 
Scott lives with his husband Mark in a yellow bungalow in Sacramento. He was indoctrinated into fantasy and sci fi by his mother at the tender age of nine. He devoured her library, but as he grew up, he wondered where all the people like him were.
 
He decided that if there weren’t gay characters in his favorite genres, he would remake them to his own ends.
 
A Rainbow Award winning author, he runs Queer Sci Fi, QueeRomance Ink, and Other Worlds Ink with Mark, sites that celebrate fiction reflecting queer reality, and is an associate member of the Science Fiction Writer’s Association (SFWA).
 
Website: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com/
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