Sisters of the Revolution: A Feminist Speculative Fiction Anthology

Language: English

Pages: 352

ISBN: 1629630357

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Sisters of the Revolution gathers a highly curated selection of feminist speculative fiction (science fiction, fantasy, horror, and more) chosen by one of the most respected editorial teams in speculative literature today, the award-winning Ann and Jeff VanderMeer. Including stories from the 1970s to the present day, the collection seeks to expand the conversation about feminism while engaging the reader in a wealth of imaginative ideas. From the literary heft of Angela Carter to the searing power of Octavia Butler, Sisters of the Revolution gathers daring examples of speculative fiction’s engagement with feminism. Dark, satirical stories such as Eileen Gunn’s “Stable Strategies for Middle Management” and the disturbing horror of James Tiptree Jr.’s “The Screwfly Solution” reveal the charged intensity at work in the field. Including new, emerging voices such as Nnedi Okorafor and featuring international contributions from Angelica Gorodischer and many more, this collection seeks to expand the ideas of both contemporary fiction and feminism to new fronts. Moving from the fantastic to the futuristic, subtle to surreal, these stories will provoke thoughts and emotions about feminism like no other book available today. Other contributors include Anne Richter, Carol Emshwiller, Eleanor Arnason, Hiromi Goto, Joanna Russ, Karin Tidbeck, Kelley Eskridge, Kelly Barnhill, Kit Reed, L. Timmel Duchamp, Leena Krohn, Leonora Carrington, Pamela Sargent, Rose Lemberg, Susan Palwick, Tanith Lee, Ursula K. Le Guin, and Vandana Singh.

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lifes and landscapes, among portraits. One of the portraits is of an old woman. She has white hair and many wrinkles; her shoulders stoop as she pours a cup of tea. The flowers on the china are the same pale, luminous blue as her eyes, which are, you realize, the same blue as your own. The painting takes your breath away. This old woman is beautiful. You know the painter, a nineteenth-century English duke, thought so too. You know Jonathan wouldn’t. You decide, once again, to try to talk to

around, heading back up the street, reaching into his pocket for a piece of gum. Yaya just sat there, leaning against her rope. He hadn’t seen her. He’d looked right through her. She glanced at the heart she had carved in the tree next to the moon. She gasped and then giggled, a mixture of relief and awe. The carving pulsed and Yaya knew if she touched it, it would be pleasantly warm. When she got home, there was a green jug in front of her bed. She glanced at her snoozing husband and quietly

Vandenberg Air Force Base is such that no person or organization—not even the ACLU or Amnesty International, organizations which deplore the fact of her confinement—can reasonably fault them. The responsible journalist undertaking coverage of Margaret A. must bear these points in mind. Selection for and Constraints upon the Photo-op I’ve been fascinated by Margaret A. my entire adult life. I entered journalism precisely so that I’d have a shot at firsthand contact with Margaret A. and have

and the promises of modern medicine and had a child. But how could I look at what had happened to them and trust anything? I majored in biology. Non-DGDs say something about our disease makes us good at the sciences—genetics, molecular biology, biochemistry … That something was terror. Terror and a kind of driving hopelessness. Some of us went bad and became destructive before we had to—yes, we did produce more than our share of criminals. And some of us went good—spectacularly—and made

I have little formal status, but Madam President will get herself in serious trouble with both me and her own staff if she continues to consider industrial espionage good clean fun. Wars and rumors of wars, as it says in one of our ancestors’ books. I translated Yuki’s words into the man’s dog-Russian, once our lingua franca, and the man laughed again. “Where are all your people?” he said conversationally. I translated again and watched the faces around the room; Lydia embarrassed (as usual),

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