Friday, February 27, 2026

Book Review: The Iron Garden Sutra by A. D. Sui

A death-monk in space, musing on what it means to be alive, and to be conscious... with a little bit of murder just to get things going.


If, like me, you read and enjoyed A. D. Sui's last published book - The Dragonfly Gambit, [Neon Hemlock, 2024] - then you'll have been just waiting for this one to drop. Sui has already shown they can handle space opera with flair, so give them not just a whole novel but a whole series in which to do it? Sign me right up.

The Iron Garden Sutra, which begins the Cosmic Wheel Series, follows Vessel Iris, a monk of the Starlit, whose role is to help the dying and deliver the dead to their final rest. The story opens with him in his home monastery, from which he is called to attend a very rare event - the discovery of a generation ship from old earth. One of many dispatched from a struggling planet long ago, it, like its siblings, is expected to be a tomb for its pioneering crew. Iris' job is simply to lay that precious, lost cargo to rest. It's a lonely job, but one he relishes, in the company of the AI assistant embedded into his brainstem. But when he gets there, he finds he isn't alone after all - a group of academics have been granted access to this monumental find, and he'll have to work alongside them to complete his task. Them... and whoever (or whatever) starts killing them off one by one.

A space opera, thriller, murder mystery situation - hurrah!

However - and I'm going to tackle this before I get to the positives because I think it's kind of important - I am not sure how well that "mystery" piece is handled. It really comes down to how much you value surprise, and the slow revelation of plot, piece by piece, over the course of a story. Which I think is an important, but not only critical, factor in this sort of story.

The problem comes from how the information is delivered to the reader, and how much we can reasonably expect of it to be accessible to the characters. For me as a genre reader, as someone who has consumed thriller and mystery content, I unfortunately found the solution to the situation pretty obvious early on, and was never surprised by the mystery (key point, I'll come back later), all the way to the end. I wasn't even in doubt, at any point, once I settled on what was happening. The joy of mysteries, for me, is in the guessing as I read them, even if I'm not amazing at it, so losing out on this strand of the tapestry was a little disappointing, and doubly so because the resolution yielded very easily to narrative logic, rather than being as a result of information presented that the characters themselves had access to. It made sense, within the story, that the engineers didn't come to the solution until close to the end - nothing of the knowledge we know them to have sets them up to come to the right conclusions. Their pool of information is made pretty clear - Sui does a great job setting their context up in that regard - and it makes very intuitive sense that they wouldn't make the jump needed. But that leaves me, the reader, sitting there with a solution nonetheless.

But this story isn't purely a mystery, there's more to what it's doing and where it's drawing its tonal and generic shape from, and so if one were to read it thinking of it in a different light, one where plot revelation pacing is less critical... I can see that this might be less of a concern. But for me, it slotted itself straight into mystery, and I could not but read it with that context in mind.

However, in everything else it was doing? Very few such complaints.

One of the primary other foci here is the character study - of Iris in particular, and of his relationships with both his companion AI (which, in this world, is both a rarity and somewhat of a taboo that his role as a monk is an exception to) and with the strangers he meets on the generation ship Counsel of Nicaea (yes I loved that joke too). Here, for the most part, is where the good work is, and where the obvious connection to Sui's previous book lies. The Dragonfly Gambit, for me, was a triumph of messy characters having messier relationships. While The Iron Garden Sutra is more restrained on that front, the DNA connection is still very clearly there.

Iris is... a mess, to be quite frank. He has spent a lot of his life isolated for a number of reasons, and struggles with having to operate around the new people he finds himself with, while at the same time yearning for their companionship. He is constrained by rules and vows, and also by his own nature that struggles to come to terms with his desires in this context. There are some beautifully described moments, where Sui has a real knack of conveying emotional state and of putting the reader truly inside Iris' head. He dissociates, he panics, he stresses, and all of those feel very embedded in his character and reactions to the (increasingly stressful and horrifying) situation in which he finds himself.

These moments, as well as the early character sketches that introduce us to the others, and the environmental descriptions that persist throughout, are where Sui's prose shines brightest. Right away on boarding the Nicaea, I got a vivid sense of the atmosphere of the place - not just the look, the carpet of moss and the hanging vines, but the feel. There's humidity and warmth, there's the soft floor against bare feet, there's the sweat dripping down the back of a neck. If one is prone to full immersion when reading, this is a book primed to deliver that most generously.

The inter-character relationships too have a good, immediate quality too them - people slot into place amongst themselves quite naturally, and then develop into something more complex from there. By far the best of these is Iris' relationship with his AI construct, referred to as VIFAI. VIFAI is a distinct character in his own right, absolutely a living thing as far as the novel is concerned, and a little bit snarky with Iris when needed. They have the warmth of two people who know each other intimately, and are also occasionally frustrated by one another, having to deal with a stressful situation together, and that stays lovely to read throughout the book.

The relationships with the academics are given less time and less depth, but there's still plenty worth enjoying, especially with the initially-antagonistic Engineer Yan, who clearly has a problem with the Starlit but won't explain why. He, too, gets character development and revelation well worth watching, and makes more and more sense in his responses the more time he gets on the page.

Where the character work falls down a little - only a little! - is in two regards. The first is that contextual information is sometimes delivered in such a way that it... not quite contradicts but definitely gets a little in the way of the natural-feeling progression of character. For example, there's a sequence relatively early that is clearly meant to be there to explain to the reader that this is a world in which AIs are considered living beings, whose autonomy is respected and protected by law. However, this is presented via Iris having a little revelation about how he's been treating VIFAI, that simply doesn't makes sense for the fact that the two have them have been together for more than half Iris' life. It feels as though it comes out of nowhere... except that it's the exact point in the plot where I needed that information, and the protagonist-AI relationship was the best vector to provide it. It doesn't happen enormously often, but there are a few moments like it throughout the story, and each was just a little grit in the eye for an otherwise lovely view.

The second regard is incredibly minor (ha), and yet also one that nagged at me the whole way through the story. There are two students with Engineer Yan as part of his team - and specifically students who have at least and undergraduate degree, possibly more, so they are at the very least in their twenties. These two are universally referred to as children throughout the book, and treated very differently than the "adults", even compared to the non-academics, so it's not even a matter of intellectual snobbery. It's just... a weird quirk. But one I couldn't get away from.

But aside from those? Wonderful. We get some revelations about Iris and VIFAI's early relationship towards the end of the story, and they're the sort of extra contextualising that just clicks everything into place. It's excellent. Likewise, some of the final character interaction scenes are an excellent encapsulation of the journey those characters have undergone, and the changes it must necessarily have performed on them. That growth and change is one of the absolute standout aspects of the book.

Which doesn't mean all the interactions are smooth. I liked The Dragonfly Gambit for its mess, and that mess is here too, though in a different form. Iris, in particular, makes some bad choices in how he responds to and reaches out (or doesn't) to the people around him that are sometimes heartbreaking, but come from a very natural-feeling place for the information we have, increasingly, about his background.

And, coming back to the point, while I may not have been surprised by the mystery, I was sometimes surprised (in a good) way, by some of the character decisions, especially at the climax and aftermath of the story. There is one, in particular, which is devestating in the moment, coming seemingly out of nowhere, but which feels entirely right in contemplation after the fact. And that, more than anything, feels like character work done right - even when they surprise you, it feels entirely unsurprising.

For a book restricted predominantly to the walls of a single (albeit large) ship, we do get enough of a sense of the world to ground it, to make sense of where all the pieces of this puzzle come from. Sui is, unsurprisingly, interested in the history from earth to the generation ship's appearance, and in giving us enough of a sense of the line between the two to make it feel like a part of the wider world.

One of the ways this is done best is in religion, in fact. For all Iris is a member of the Starlit, this is not a single future religion, alone and unchallenged. This is a world that has, at least, muslims, mormons, catholics and a rabbi living alongside the space-death-monks. And for me, religious plurality is an incredibly important marker for a credible space future. Too many stories expect me to believe in monocultures - whether that's a single planet, a single religion, or a single faith - and there is nothing about my experience of the world that has me expecting anything from humans other than plurality in all things. And so, when a story gives that, it's always a pleasant surprise. But moreover, in this space-faring world, where space travel still carries inherent risks and dangers, it makes a lot of sense that something like Iris' Starlit would exist to operate within that niche. The world is shaped in such a way that Iris and his context make instant, intuitive sense to me, and that felt important too. His religion is given shape and depth throughout the story, in his actions, his possessions, his habits and in interstitial texts that tell us more about scripture and beliefs. It is a thing whole, one that forms part of the fabric of human life, and provides something that could conceivably nourish the soul - it is a religion where I can understand why people follow it. Very easily. This is rarer than perhaps it ought to be.

Between the world, the characters, the prose and the very real sense of place, there is a lot to love about The Iron Garden Sutra. I have my quibbles with parts of it, but none of those ever stopped me from wanting to devour it, page after page. I found some of the magic in it that drew me to Sui's previous work, and more than enough to draw me onwards into the rest of the series. I am desperate to know what happens next, but, more importantly, keen to see the characters who go one from the end of this volume, and to see them continue to grow into whatever comes next.

--

The Math

Highlights: excellent characters and their relationships, lovely neat turns of phrase, excellent descriptions of place and atmosphere

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10

Reference: A. D. Sui, The Iron Garden Sutra, [Erewhon Books, 2026]

POSTED BY: Roseanna Pendlebury, the humble servant of a very loud cat. @chloroformtea.bsky.social

Thursday, February 26, 2026

Nanoreviews: Overgrowth, Aunt Tigress

Overgrowth by Mira Grant

It’s been fifteen years since Mira Grant published Feed, the first of the Newsflesh novels. It’s been ten years since Chimera, the conclusion of the Parasitology trilogy, followed by the phenomenal Into the Drowning Deep in 2017. Since then Grant has published a kickass YA Alien novel and a handful of novellas, but even so, it’s been a while since we’ve had what feels like a “proper” Mira Grant novel, for whatever exactly that means.

Overgrowth asks what it would look like if a little girl told anyone who would listen that she was really an alien in the form of a human and the alien armada was coming… and that girl was telling the truth. As told by Mira Grant, the open pseudonym of Seanan McGuire, which is important because there is a sort of personal narrative style that Grant/McGuire works in, where most characters speak in a very specific explanatory descriptive way, and it’s something that I’ve appreciated reading a LOT of McGuire’s work over the last decade.

The Mira Grant name is where McGuire writes her more horror-themed science fiction novels and novellas (rather than as Seanan McGuire, which gets more urban fantasy/fantasy). Overgrowth is absolutely horrifying. That little girl at the heart of the novel’s premise—she walked into the woods one day and didn’t come back. Something else did, and that something else looked like the girl, moved like the girl, and sort of talked like the girl, but not exactly, and when she said that she was an alien, most people thought it was trauma, but the parents also knew that something was wrong.

I’m not going to say that this is a sort of horror that only parents can understand or relate to, because I don’t think that’s actually the case at all—but it is a horror that I feel more viscerally as a parent. It’s the combination fear of something happening to either of my children, but I know my kids. I know who they are as growing people, and I can scarcely imagine the raw horror of my son or daughter being there but being “not right”. It’s terrifying.

That’s also not truly what Overgrowth is about, because it’s about what happens when that kid (and others) are grown, still telling the same story, and the the aliens actually show up. What happens *then*? How does the world respond to those people who said they weren’t human in the face of evidence that something is coming? We can guess how governments would react based on years of evidence of how they treat actual humans they choose to deem a threat or a “security concern.” We can guess how other people will react to someone truly “other” because we’ve seen that in our lifetimes and our parents’ lifetimes. We know the stories.

All that is before the aliens actually show up, which isn’t really a spoiler. It’s kind of the premise behind the setup. If those kids weren’t lying, *something* has to arrive, and more than likely given that this is a Mira Grant novel, they’re not gong to be coming in peace.

If you’re down for this premise and for Mira Grant’s light touch with horror and characterization, Overgrowth is one of my favorite books of the year so far. There’s a lot to like here. Overgrowth is not going to open up your veins and make readers viscerally feel every bit of fear and terror and gore. It’s not that sort of book, and Grant (so far) has not quite been that sort of writer (though it’s been a very long time since I’ve read Newsflesh or Parasitology), but that’s also not what you go to Mira Grant for. You read Mira Grant for one hell of a premise, fast-paced storytelling, and a very specific characterization. Overgrowth hits the mark.


Aunt Tigress by Emily Yu-Xuan Qin

I often think of urban fantasy debuts the way I remember Seanan McGuire’s Rosemary and Rue or Jim Butcher’s Storm Front: there’s enough to interest me, but not quite to hook me into the series, but I absolutely need to read one to two more books because the hook is almost certainly coming, and once it sets, I’ll be fully invested for another twenty books.

Aunt Tigress is an exciting debut urban fantasy from Emily Yu-Xuan Qin set in Calgary and wrapped in Chinese and First Nations mythology. I’m… interested. Tam Lin is part magical tiger, with a human mother and a tiger on her father’s side. Everything starts with the death of Tam’s titular Aunt Tigress, who appears to have been a truly awful person, and it turns out that perhaps Aunt Tigress was murdered, and Tam wants to find out what happened despite her withdrawing from her magical heritage. A university classmate, Janet, latches on to Tam and helps her on her quest. Misadventures ensue.

I bounced off this idea during the novel, but I wonder if there will be more Tam Lin novels, and if so, in what way the mythology of Tam Lin and Janet and faerie might play into that. Having a character named Tam Lin is one thing. Tam having a love interest named Janet is something else. That’s not really germane to Aunt Tigress, but given some distance, it’s something I’m thinking about.

Aunt Tigress is a wild adventure that starts relatively grounded and ends up on a truly magical mystery tour (™) through a mystical cosmos of sorts. I didn’t love this, but I’ll read another from Qin to see how she develops as a storyteller.


PUBLISHED BY: Joe Sherry - Senior Editor of Nerds of a Feather. Hugo and Ignyte Winner. Minnesotan.

Book Review: The Subtle Art of Folding Space

A story of two sisters and their tangled relationship, plus maintenance of the laws of the universe

Ellie lives in Boston. She is on her way to DC, where her elder sister Chris has been taking care of their mother, whose condition has slipped into a coma. Chris is the type of elder sister that never, ever stops telling Ellie how worthless she is, how much she clearly doesn’t love their mother as much as Chris does.

Oh, and did I mention that Chris has sent a number of assassination attempts Ellie’s way?

Oh, and did I also mention that their family is among a secret group of people who maintain this universe, and others?

This is the story of The Subtle Art of Folding Space, short story author John Chu’s jump from shorter forms into a full-length novel.

There is a point in the novel where Ellie, and a few others, are discussing the fact that within their society there is apparently a secret cabal of universe tinkerers, maintainers and builders, and how it’s a problem that there are secret factions amongst them. It’s funny, but Ellie never seems to consider that she herself, and all of her colleagues, are in fact a secret cabal within the wider universe, and universes, that the secrecy goes from the very beginning. So let me explain:

Ellie, Chris, their mother, family members and others, some of which are not from this particular universe, and some of which are most definitely not human, are members of a group of people who build, debug and maintain universes, including our own. They do this by means of an attached “sub-universe” called the “skunkworks.” That’s where the universe can be tweaked. Those who can do this are expected to do it not for their own gain, but as an unheralded public good, and as needed. Ellie may not be her mother (who is and was Chief Builder), but when she finds that there’s new hardware and code in the skunkworks, and that someone is exploiting design flaws, she’s forced into action.

The mechanics, methodology and paradigm of maintaining the universe feel somewhat like computer programming, when you have some very old code that has not been completely debugged and probably can’t be. That means continual work for people like Ellie. Just how this all came to be in the first place, and how someone can get initiated into this, are never made clear, but the programming of the universe is a scaffold for telling a story of heart with these characters and their relationships.

Take Chris and Ellie. Chris, as mentioned above, continually tells Ellie she is not good enough and really doesn’t love their mother. Plus the assassination attempts, and the gaslighting. The novel takes pains to have Ellie slowly really realize just how toxic Chris’s relationship with her is, and how it is not a normal sibling rivalry relationship, but something worse. The untangling and exegesis of the Ellie-Chris relationship is what this novel is all about. The skunkworks, the machinations, the secret societies, changes to the universe, and intrigues, all really in the end boil down to Ellie’s relationship with her older sister.

This means that readers who are hoping for even more crunchy details on how these universe maintainers do their work are going to be a bit disappointed. Just enough detail is there to tantalize the reader (such as mentioning casually that a century ago they had to add quantum mechanics to the universe), but it does not go endlessly deep. The sense that we get, and is explicated directly at points, is that maintaining the universe is a thankless job, if you are playing it straight and not for your own gain. It’s a lot of work, scut work, to keep the machinery of the universe running, especially when it’s filled with exploits and code problems.

But the book really isn’t about the mechanics of all this. This is a book about the characters in that space, and what they do, and why, and how they relate to each other. There are also hints, as mentioned above, of various philosophies within the factions of how to do all this.¹

Besides Ellie and Chris (who is not actually on screen so much but remains a looming antagonist), the other major character we get is their cousin Daniel. He is a prodigy of the skunkworks on axes that Ellie is not, and it is clear that he, for all his affability, is extremely competent—and dangerous. I also liked Ahdi, who is Daniel’s boss in the hierarchy (or is he?), and has some rather startling skills of his own. Through Ahdi we get a window into the greater world of the people who maintain the skunkworks of this and other universes, and it’s a tangled relationship map that Ellie, Chris and Daniel are only just getting themselves into.

In many ways, this feels like a multiverse modern world novel that is in conversation with Max Gladstone’s Craft Wars books. Both authors have a strong sense of humanity and relationships, queer-positive worlds, and characters that are dealing with some often unhinged and mighty powers (magic on one side, multiversal manipulation on the other). But what counts is how people deal with such power, and the philosophies of handing it. A lot of the Craft Wars is about how to maintain societies and what it means to siphon off power for your own ends, even with the best of intentions. Here, Ellie and Chris’s relationship, and the fate of their mother, falls squarely into that conversation.

The novel reaches an inflection point in the sisters’ relationship, a very satisfactory ending to a self-contained story. Anyone who has had strained relations with a sibling, especially revolving around their relationship with their parents, can see and get a lot out of the Ellie-Chris relationship. The skunkworks and the problems, personal and otherwise, revealed in the course of the novel are not resolved, and if Chu wanted to write more in this multiverse (I do think he has a lot more to say about power than what he has said here, again, like the Craft Wars ’verse does), I think there’s room here to really explore these ideas with an aggressively character-centered focus.

In other words, I certainly read more novels set in this multiverse.

Pass the bao, and some more novels, John!

Highlights:

  • A very strong focus on character dynamics, the Ellie-Chris relationship in particular
  • Universe maintenance as computer programming of an old and somewhat creaky system
  • This novel made me hungry for bao

Reference: Chu, John. The Subtle Art of Folding Space [Tor, 2026].

¹ The description of exploits and how the universe can be circumvented reminds me a bit of the description of how magic works in Charles Stross’ Laundry Files ’verse, specifically The Regicide Report.

POSTED BY: Paul Weimer. Ubiquitous in Shadow, but I'm just this guy, you know? @princejvstin.

Wednesday, February 25, 2026

Film Review: Bugonia

A bleak, biting exploration of human shortcomings that undercuts the dark comedy label

Joining Sinners and Frankenstein on the speculative side of the 2026 Best Picture Oscar race is the psychologically twisty thriller Bugonia. While Frankenstein offers addictive melodrama with fantastical sets, and Sinners delivers a stunning historical allegory on racism, creativity, and exploitation, Bugonia, on the other hand, is a quirky, quietly focused exploration of human shortcomings, especially as a response to grief. Bugonia is categorized as a dark comedy, but that label feels misleading. Despite its outlandish premise, the ultimate execution of the story feels for the most part sharp, direct, and bitter rather than sarcastically humorous. This tonal choice is unexpected but effective due to the excellent performances by the lead actors, who discuss outrageous, fantastical, tragic, and banal issues with equally seething intensity in a way that feels more like an intimate stage play than a feature film.

Bugonia is a remake of the 2003 Korean film Save the Green Planet, in which a conspiracy theorist kidnaps and tortures a corporate CEO who he believes is an extraterrestrial alien bent on destroying our planet. [SPOILERS] In Bugonia, Teddy (Jesse Plemons) is an ordinary warehouse worker and amateur beekeeper who has become obsessed with the idea that aliens known as Andromedans have infiltrated human society and are deliberately destroying the planet. He convinces his gentle-natured cousin Don (Aidan Delbis) to help him kidnap drug company CEO Michelle Fuller (Emma Stone), believing her to be an evil Andromedan.

In a complex scheme, Teddy and Don are able to overpower and kidnap Michelle and chain her in their basement. They demand that she arrange a meeting with the Andromedans, but when Michelle denies being an alien, Teddy tortures her by repeatedly electrocuting her. Despite the dire nature of the situation, Michelle remains calm and intellectually challenges Teddy’s viewpoint. This causes Teddy to physically attack her. Don becomes uncomfortable with Teddy’s physical abuse of Michelle but is devoted to him.

Meanwhile, a deputy (Stavros Halkias) investigating the missing CEO is revealed to have repeatedly sexually abused Teddy as a child. Additionally, the drugs made by Michelle’s company are responsible for putting Teddy’s mother (Alicia Silverstone) in a coma. Teddy’s fraught backstory is counterbalanced by his obsessive pseudo-intellectualism and violent behavior. Michelle’s wit and calmness match her corporate persona that is briefly shown before the abduction. As Teddy and Michelle match wits, Don gets overwhelmed by the pressure of the competing extremes, and we see how truly unhinged Teddy is and how ultimately manipulative Michelle is.

Bugonia’s strength lies almost entirely in the addictive performances of Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons. Plemons is well cast as the self-important mastermind who uses his ego to justify his disturbing behavior and cover up his profound inner insecurities. The character is reminiscent of Plemons’s portrayal of the cruel Robert Daly in the “USS Callister” episode of Black Mirror. In both stories he portrays a person who feels beleaguered and intellectually superior and feels justified in hurting others to get his way.

Similarly, Emma Stone owns the scenes as the assertive, unbowed corporate CEO. She spouts corporate doublespeak about employee wellness while manipulating people to work late. We see just enough of her in terms of fitness, intellect, strength, and boldness before diving into her cold, calm performance as a smart captive. The performance is taut, sharp, and calculating, the perfect foil to Plemons’s portrayal of an insecure façade of control that falls apart when challenged. Aidan Delbis is also solid as Don, whose loyalty to Teddy is counterbalanced by practical insight and independent ethical awareness. Despite being presented as naïve and compliant, Don is the true moral center of the story.

The film delves into a diverse but related continuum of issues ranging from environmental damage to human poisoning to the toxic nature of corporate life. On the other hand, we see how abuse leads to rage and to more abuse, how loss and grief fuel anger and violence, and how the echo chamber of online algorithms can fuel extremism. Ultimately, the issue becomes a larger question about humanity itself: why do human beings choose to be toxic and violent, repeatedly and on so many different levels, despite the cost to ourselves, other humans, and our world itself?

Unfortunately, the ending doesn’t land as solidly as the initial tense setup deserves. The low-budget visual effects are meant to be humorous, but undercut the story’s initial intensity. Instead of locking in on the sharp biting commentary, the ending is awkwardly campy in a way that fails to be either actually humorous or truly ironic. The only true poignancy comes in the epilogue, but those final moments feel a bit flat after so much intense emotion.

Bees are a primary symbol in the story; the film’s title refers to a strange ancient theory of spawning a beehive from an animal’s carcass. The concept is bleak call to account to address the reality of who we really are versus who we think we are. However, the strength of the film lies in the acting in this psychological thriller, rather than in the awkward questions it asks about the flawed nature of humanity in both our external choices and in our innate being.

Highlights:

  • Excellent acting
  • Biting social commentary
  • Lackluster ending

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10.

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Tuesday, February 24, 2026

Book Review: Ignore All Previous Instructions by Ada Hoffmann

 Queer space pirates fighting the mundane evils of AI

Cover of All Previous Instructions. Features a cartoony Jupiter with a spaceship.

Ignore All Previous Instructions by Ada Hoffman is a book about the power of stories to help us figure out who we are, the ramifications of giving a corporate AI the power to decide what kinds of stories are told, and what happens to the people it leaves out of those stories.

The story is told from the perspective of Kelli Reynolds, an autistic woman who lives on Callisto and works as a script supervisor for Inspiration, a media company that also runs the surrounding system. Kelli has been contacted by an ex, an old friend from school, named Rowan, who needs a favour. Rowan is trans, and Inspiration has outlawed surgery for trans people, meaning that hormones for trans people are a controlled substance. Kelli worries that he’s in trouble and agrees to meet him. Shenanigans ensue.

Interspersed with the chapters about Kelli in the present moment are chapters featuring Kelli as a child and teenager. In these chapters, we see the development of her friendship with Rowan (who we meet as a girl named Amelia, who quickly begins to go by ‘Am’ and eventually chooses the name Rowan).

Ignore All Previous Instructions is a fun heist story where Kelli gets tricked into helping her old friend steal intellectual property from Inspiration. To do this, they have to fight Inspiration’s community standards enforcement division as well as a criminal syndicate. Rowan has styled himself as something of a space pirate, smuggling “illegal” content and helping people jailbreak their computers so they can read without Inspiration looking over their shoulders.

The story was fun and absolutely worth reading! But for me, what makes this story great is how Hoffman uses it to reveal what a realistic world controlled by a corporate AI system could look like. Hoffman uses the chapters where Kelli is a child to explain the LLM, so they can explain it to the reader like we are also eight years old. This works surprisingly well. In a special lesson, “who does a story belong to?,” Kelli and her classmates are introduced to the idea that Inspiration owns all the stories because it solved the problem of having an LLM trained on stolen data by buying and trademarking not only story components, like pirates and dragons, but also story structures like “misunderstandings and redemptions, comedies and tragedies, romances and victories over impossible odds.” Then the company trademarked the names of places and famous people. It ended up owning all the intellectual property of storytelling, so it became the only one who could tell and sell stories.

The discussion of a world crafted by a corporate AI kept me thinking about this book long after I’d finished it. I have been an AI hater from the beginning, mostly due to ethical and environmental reasons, but Hoffman clearly shows the possible ramifications of allowing all our content to be created by a corporate-owned LLM: identities deemed “problematic” suddenly just do not exist in stories. Stories with unlikeable or unreliable narrators just don’t get published anymore. We no longer get to see stories where people grapple with trauma, hurt, and wrong, because those stories are too “divisive.”

Hoffman has a PhD in computer science, and their dissertation focused on AI systems; they know what they’re talking about with the tech. In the afterward, they discuss how they thought hard about how AI is portrayed in fiction: “Exaggerating AI’s power and intelligence, even if it’s the bad guy, can sometimes reinforce inaccurate ideas about what AI is really capable of and about what kinds of AI risk are most pressing, and AI companies adroitly use these misconceptions for their own benefit.”

Hoffman demonstrates how AI can constrain the stories we are allowed to tell when, in a flashback chapter, the kids write their own story with a special version of the LLM: “StoryGen—Kids’ Edition!” The program does not actually let them write very much of their own. They can write a sentence and then they’re prompted to ask the LLM to make it “more exciting!,” “happier!,” or “funnier!.” One of the kids wants to write about a shark that eats everything, and laments that there is no “angrier!” button. Instead, the StoryGen writes a milquetoast story about “a shark who was nice and made good choices, because sharks are an important part of the ecosystem and we should not be afraid of them.”

As Hoffman explains in the afterword, “At heart, large language models work—like a very sophisticated autocorrect—by predicting the most likely continuation of a given series of words. This preference for the most likely output causes any biases in the model’s training data to be not only reflected, but amplified. Even without censorious policies like Inspiration’s, the model will be more biased towards the majority, and more reliant on stereotypes in general, than whatever text it trained on, unless very careful training and prompting techniques are devised to counteract this effect.”

In the story, Hoffman shows us how Kelli and Rowan, now queer and neurodivergent adults, grew up without any ability to see themselves reflected in stories. While homosexuality is not illegal in Inspiration space, it’s considered “private” and inappropriate to discuss with minors. So Kelli and Rowan had never actually heard about queer people or different ways of presenting gender until they get access to a parent’s tablet to search for terms like “dyke” and “lesbian”—terms they’d heard as slurs but did not understand the meaning of.

This is a fairly dark book masked behind what Hoffman refers to as an “unsubtle cartoonlike aesthetic.” In addition to the disappearing of queer identities in Inspiration space, we also see what it’s like to grow up neurodivergent in such a society. Kelli, who is autistic, has been issued a companion robot that runs an LLM to “help” her learn to be “normal.” One of their friends, Elaine, goes to weekly appointments with an AI therapist. The robot and the AI therapist cannot help Kelli and Elaine because neither acknowledges that it’s okay to be different.

Ignore All Previous Instructions is a cleverly written space heist book, with surprising depth in its discussion of queerness, neurodiversity, and the harms of AI. It's absolutely worth reading.

Highlights:

  • Well done queer and neurodiverse characters
  • Contemplates harms of corporate AI
  • Space pirates doing a heist

Nerd Coefficient: 8/10, well worth your time and attention.

Reference: Hoffman, Ada. Ignore All Previous Instructions [Tachyon Publishing, 2026].

POSTED BY: Christine D. Baker, historian and lover of SFF and mysteries. You can find her also writing reviews at Ancillary Review of Books or podcasting about classic scifi/fantasy at Hugo History. Come chat books with her on Bluesky @klaxoncomms.com.

Monday, February 23, 2026

6 Books with A.C Wise

A.C. Wise is the author of the novels Wendy, Darling and Hooked, along with the recent short story collection The Ghost Sequences. Her work has won the Sunburst Award for Excellence in Canadian Literature of the Fantastic, and has been a finalist for the Nebula Awards, Stoker, World Fantasy, Locus, British Fantasy, Aurora, Lambda, and Ignyte Awards. In addition to her fiction, she contributes a review column to Apex Magazine.


Today, we find out about her six books.

1. What book are you currently reading?

I recently started reading The Villa, Once Beloved by Victor Manibo. I’m not that far into it yet, but I’m very much enjoying it thus far. It’s an atmospheric Gothic that looks to be playing with some of the tropes of the genre. There’s a desolate and run-down mansion, and the idea of the family curse, but there are several characters who could fulfil the role of the outsider coming into the situation. Sophie isn’t a member of the family; she was adopted as a child, leaving her feeling in an in-between state of both being from the Philippines and not from the Philippines; her boyfriend spent time at the estate as a child, but didn’t exactly grow up there; and other members of the family are estranged, semi-estranged, or don’t fit in. Thus far, everyone is also very up front about the idea of the curse, which makes me think there are other buried secrets yet to be revealed. I’m looking forward to seeing how the dynamics and expectations of the genre play out over the course of the book.

2. What upcoming book are you really excited about?

There are a few 2026 titles that I was lucky enough to get an early look at, and I’m very excited for other folks to be able to read them. The Iron Garden Sutra by A.D. Sui is a gorgeous, slow-burn locked room mystery set in space. Cabaret in Flames by Hache Pueyo is a lush novella exploring trauma and healing in a world of ghuls. Stephanie Feldman also has a lovely collection upcoming, The Night Parade and Other Stories. As for works I haven’t read yet coming out in 2026, I’m looking forward to John Chu’s debut novel The Subtle Art of Folding Space and Paul Tremblay’s new novel Dead But Dreaming of Electric Sheep.





3. Is there a book you’re currently itching to reread?

I saw a really beautiful edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray the other day, and while I resisted buying it, it did make me want to reread it. I’ve also been contemplating giving Moby Dick another try. From what I recall, I got almost of the way through it, but never actually finished it.











4. How about a book you’ve changed your mind about—either positively or negatively?

A book I’ve changed my mind about multiple times over the years is Catcher in the Rye. The first time I tried to read it in a high school English class, I bounced off of it. I gave it another shot a few years later and ended up really liking it and finding Holden Caufield more relatable. Looking back now, I suspect Holden would be irritating and I’d be impatient with him. I also get the feeling that may be intentional, and the way a reader reacts to Holden may very much be a factor of age.





5. What’s one book, which you read as a child or a young adult, that holds a special place in your heart?

The Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark trilogy both continues to have a lasting influence on my writing and holds a special place in my heart. So many of the stories are mere snippets or leave events wholly unexplained, which means there’s room to imagine all sorts of things around the margins. Being drawn from folk/fairy/traditional tales and urban legends gives the stories an enduring and timeless feel. Plus, there are those gorgeous illustrations, which I feel like are absolutely burned into the brains of many authors and readers of my generation. Several things I’ve written over the years have drawn inspiration from those stories and their accompanying artwork.




6. And speaking of that, what’s your latest book, and why is it awesome?

My latest book is Ballad of the Bone Road, and while it’s not strictly horror, there are horror-adjacent elements, and there are ghosts involved. It’s set in an alternate version of New York City, which was once occupied by the fae. Two supernatural investigators get caught up in a particularly tricky haunting involving a movie idol, and things get increasingly complicated from there. I love stories where the fae are as dangerous as they are lovely, and where ghosts are more tragic than frightening. This novel has both, and there’s also romance and friendship and people making terrible decision with the best intentions in mind. I had a lot of fun writing it, so hopefully people will enjoy reading it!



Thank you!

Friday, February 20, 2026

Nerds of a Feather 2026 Awards Eligibility

Awards season has once again begun. We began by looking at all the works we collectively have in our sights for nominations in our Recommended Reading Lists (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4), and so now we must turn our gaze inward, to the team that makes up Nerds of a Feather, Flock Together.

Collectively of course, we are eligible for the Best Fanzine category of the Hugos, the Ignyte Critics Award, the Best Magazine category of the Locus, the Best Magazine or Periodical category in the British Fantasy Award and any other award that we may have missed that recognizes magazine, fanzine or broad critic work. 

But we are a team of individuals, all of whom have put in the work throughout 2025 to make NoaF happen, and so we want to take a moment here to highlight the individual works each member (and we collectively, on their behalf) are proudest of, both here and in their various endeavors outside our fanzine. As part of NoaF, they are each eligible for the Fan Writer category of the Hugo Awards, and so if you are still looking for inspiration to fill up your ballot, feel free to peruse below what they all collectively have to offer, and possibly add them to your considerations.

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Fanzine

Nerds of a Feather, Flock Together, edited by Roseanna Pendlebury, Arturo Serrano, Paul Weimer, Joe Sherry, The G, and Vance Kotrla

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Fan Writer 

Here are some of the highlights from our active authors in 2025:

Ann Michelle Harris
Review: Gachiakuta
Review: Ironheart
Review: My Hero Academia - The Final Season
Review: Sinners
Review: Star Trek: Strange New Worlds - Season 3
Review: Washington Black

Arturo Serrano (Editor)
Review: Arkhangelsk, by Elizabeth H. Bonesteel
Review: Before You Go Extinct
Review: Don't Die
Review: The King Tide
There is no "I" in Plur1bus
Wherein I struggle to express how I feel about Silo

Clara Cohen
Realm of the Elderlings Re-Read
Review: The Everlasting, by Alix E. Harrow
Review: Hymn to Dionysus, by Natasha Pulley
Review: If Stars Are Lit, by Sara K. Ellis
Review: Long Live Evil, by Sarah Rees Brennan
Review: The Tufa Novels, by Alex Bledsoe

Joe Sherry (Senior Editor)
Nanoreviews: The Martian Contingency, Tidal Creatures
The October Daye Re-Read: A Killing Frost
Review: When the Moon Hits Your Eye, by John Scalzi

Paul Weimer (Editor)

Interview With Emily Tesh
Interview With Natania Barron
Review: All that We See or Seem, by Ken Liu
Review: The Immeasurable Heaven, by Casper Geon
Review: The Raven Scholar, by Antonia Hodgson
Review: Queen Demon, by Martha Wells

Roseanna Pendlebury (Editor)
The Arthur C. Clarke Award 2025: A Shortlist Discussion
A Granite Silence - Nina Allan
Honeyeater, by Kathleen Jennings
A Path Through the Landscape: My Own Route Through Science Fiction
The People Are Us, the Time is Always: Review of Natalia Theodoridou's Sour Cherry
Review: Katabasis, by R.F. Kuang
Review: Notes from a Regicide, by Isaac Fellman
Review: Power Fantasy, Vol 2, by Kieron Gillen, Caspar Wijngaard, Clayton Cowles and Rian Hughes
Review: Remember You Will Die, by Eden Robins
Whose Science Fiction: Recognition and its Absence in a Reading of Colourfields by Paul Kincaid

Vance Kotrla (Founder)

Book Sale Finds: Mental Hygiene, by Ken Smith
Hollywood is Dead. Long Live Hollywood

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Fancast

Hugo History Podcast  (Christine Baker)
The Skiffy and Fanty Show (Paul Weimer)

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Short Story

"Blink", by Ann Michelle Harris, published in Midnight & Indigo: 16 Speculative Stories by Black Women Writers 

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Novel
North, by Ann Michelle Harris

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Please also consider our other members for their work with us throughout 2025:

Christine D. Baker

Joe DelFranco

The G (founder)

Chris Garcia

Stewart Hotston

Dean E.S. Richard

Phoebe Wagner

Alex Wallace

Haley Zapal

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Thank you, and happy nominating!