#michael-bishop — Public Fediverse posts

I’ve read three of these #sciencefiction #books about science fiction - the #PaulLaFarge, #LavieTidhar and #MichaelBishop - and they were all great, but the last one in particular, as it’s about a subject close to my heart; it’s alternate title is #PhilipKDick is Dead, Alas …

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:qs6lqij3alrw4tbhpthicdso/post/3lx4bva7txh2u

As part of the cost-cutting measures to secure the Season 4 renewal, #SupermanAndLois will lose eight regular cast members -- Dylan Walsh, Emmanuelle Chriqui, Erik Valdez, Inde Navarrette, Wolé Parks, Tayler Buck and Sofia Hasmik -- with the hope that some or all will guest or recur based on availability or interest. #TylerHoechlin, #ElizabethTulloch, #MichaelBishop and #AlexGarfin will naturally return, while #MichaelCudlitz (Lex Luthor) will be promoted to a series regular. #television

Why was #JonathanKent react for #SupermanandLoisSseason3?

https://screenrant.com/why-jonathan-kent-recast-superman-lois-season-3/

#SupermanAndLois #Arrowverse #JordanElsass #MichaelBishop

Guest Post: Catacomb Years, Michael Bishop (1979)

(Ron Walotsky’s cover for the 1979 edition)

The eighth (!) installment in my Michael Bishop Guest post series comes via my longtime fellow SF blogger/friend (well, multiple years) 2theD (twitter:@SFPotPourri) at PotPourri of Science Fiction Literature.  And this is a darn good linked collection of Bishop stories.

I highly recommend you check out 2theD’s blog, follow him on twitter, peruse his large collection of reviews…

All cities are built on voiceless narratives

Collated rating: 5/5

Buying Michael Bishop’s Catacomb Years was a wise investment, albeit an impulse buy at the second-hand bookstore. This is the only Bishop novel, or collection, I own. Originally, it was going to stay stacked in my to-be-read pile for 3-4 years in the future (hey, I have a lot of catching up to do in my library) but the alluring cover proved  too much… that and Joachim Boaz manhandled me from 8,700 miles away into reading it for his collection of guest posts on the work of Michael Bishop.

You’d be a dullard if you weren’t initially struck by either the premise or the cover art: As history barrels forward in a the manner of a drunkard, American cities like Atlanta eventually cap themselves in domes under the idea of Preemptive Isolation, only to suffer the pangs of dying from its onset of birth. Along with the novel A Little Knowledge (1977), pristinely reviewed by Heloise Merlin, these two books complete Bishop’s Urban Nucleus series.

Rear cover synopsis:

“They were the great years. the years after the U.S.A. was dissolved, after he domed cities were sealed, after the aliens from 61 Cygni had arrived… before they had converted to Christianity!

As rich and outrageous as Faulkner crossed with Heinlein, Michael Bishop’s Future History of the Urban Nucleus of Atlanta chronicles a New South of Near-Future people by born-again aliens, jumpsuited glissadors, child-embodied immortals, Mall guys, fall guys and two improbable lovers looking upward toward the stars. Its publication is one of the major SF events of the decade.”

————

Two things strike the reader when they learn that Catacomb Years is a collection of stories about a city under a dome: (1) The Why and (2) The How. As for the history WHY the domes were constructed, the book contains (1) a 5-page dated chronology covering the span of time of the stories and (2) a 4-page “Prelude: The Domes”. As for HOW… well, like I said, you’d be a dolt if you didn’t think seven stories of a domed city would be intriguing… but Bishop doesn’t play his fiddle for dolts; he has smartly written humanistic stories of people in the city rather than of the inner workings of the city-cum-Urban Nucleus called Atlanta, itself.

In writing humanistic stories, Bishop takes the high path and ignores the common narratives of the elite (affluent or influential), the powerful (administrators or politicians) or the controversial (pop stars or prostitutes [same thing, right?]). Ignoring these obvious narratives, Bishop instead hits upon the voiceless narratives of the common man in uncommon events—the muted accounts, the unheard secret history of the Urban Nucleus.

Each of these voiceless narratives has consequential ripples in the remaining stories, much as one rock can produce a lake-wide wave pattern. Though spanning generations, the momentum of the city’s subcutaneous reality-in-the-flesh builds to form its own dome of understanding around the Nucleus. With death, with suffering or with hope for renewal, these panels of the city’s geodesic narrative dome frame the city justly.

So, like Bishop’s exclusion of using the horse and pony show to impress the reader, I’ll just say what’s needed of the passing lives in Atlanta.

————

If a Flower Could Eclipse (1970, novelette) – 4/5 – Isolating himself in the corner of his classroom, the precocious Emory Coleman secretively toils away on his drawings down in black, his favorite color. Observing him through the glass are Fiona Bitler and Dr. Greer, his teacher and the behavioral psychologist, respectively. Considering Emory is the son of the man who assassinated Mz. Bitler’s husband, the situation is odd even before the two disappear together. 29 pages

Here, three individuals struggle to cope with the expectations of their respective role: Emory should be social and obedient yet his nature is reclusive and condescending; Fiona Bitler and Dr. Greer should both be objective in their study of young Emory, but personal needs blur the distinction between professional interests and emotional interests.

Old Folks at Home (1978, novella) – 4/5 – Zoe Breedlove’s own daughter volunteers her for a gerontological study. Though initially dismayed at her unsympathetic attitude toward her own mother, the Geriatric Hostel offers more than Zoe had dared hope. Adopted by, but not yet married into, the Phoenix septigamoklan (an elderly marriage grouping of seven), Zoe spends days and years among her kind in interests, kinship, and love. 49 pages

Unlike an assisted care facility or whatever you want to call a prison for the elderly, the Geriatric Hostel’s program doesn’t simply doll out the meds and swap bedpans every so often. In the septigamoklan, similar to a group of responsible children left on their own, they form a bond amongst themselves and even indulge in eccentricities for the intrinsic need for happiness.

The Window’s in Dante’s Hell (1973, shortstory) – 4/5 – Dead bodies in the urban Nucleus are better left to the unemotional servo-units, in which they simply dispose of the body into the city’s Level 9 recycler. An elderly body’s death stirs up curiosity and morbidity in the city’s Biomonitor Agency, resulting in Ardry and his boss’s son descending the levels to see the dead body. Rather than shock, they experience interest and sadness in the woman’s obsession with an old sci-fi TV series. 17 pages

Ignoring death is to be scared of our shared finality, the one common trait that makes us human: we live, we die. When Ardry and Newlyn come upon the dead woman’s home, the presence of her corpse isn’t as haunting as the elaborate mockup of a starship bridge—an eerie reminder than the death of history walks as a zombie in the minds of others.

The Samurai and the Willows (1976, novella) – 5/5 – Inhabiting Level 9 by trade and inhabiting the same level by choice, Georgia Cawthorn and Simon Fowler, respectively, share a room but not much else: He, a lithe Japanese figure with a fixation on samurai philosophy and bonsai pruning; she, an Amazonian glissaor of crass approach. Their physical proximity develops into a mutual interest and eventual, though slowly evolving, emotional interest of opposites attract. 45 pages

Impassioned by the art of patience and sacrifice, Simon writes of his daily philosophical struggles and toils selflessly with his bonsai trees. Perhaps the extrinsic looks of nobleness endear him to his toiling, but it’s his internal friction which catches him by surprise. When he sacrifices his vanity for a want, his hesitation is a blow to his esteem, so he must sacrifice one last thing.

Allegiances (1975, novella) – 4/5 – Contrary to popular belief under the dome of Atlanta, life still exists and even thrives in the Open. Newlyn Yates, now of the Biomonitor Agency with extended powers, enlists Clio Noble and a Native American, with the alias of Alexander Guest, to emerge from the Nucleus in order to procure two individuals of repute: Emory Coleman and Fiona Bitler. Having been in the open for some thirty years, they have privileged knowledge. 49 pages

Unbeknownst to most in the Urban Nucleus, the world beyond the Dome –itself a shield of ignorance—is fit for life. Once, the expansive roadways of Georgia served automobiles but in the year 2071, these same concrete arteries are chocked with verdant brush—an additional veil of ignorance keeping the domed citizens from knowing the truth about the US, Earth, and aliens.

At the Dixie-Apple with the Shoofly-Pie kid (1977, shortstory) – 5/5 – Julian had always been fascinated by the idea of aliens and so he wrote stories about them. When he learned that they really do exist, he wrote a story based on what he knew of the aliens and the Urban Nucleus: The Dixie-Apple Autumn Savings Sale is a draw enough for most, but the lone alien exhibition causes curiosity to soar, including Cullen, Bayangumay and her kids, one of which is about to run wild through the orderly store. 16 pages

This metafictional morsel allows Bishop to betray his assumed ambition—common man in uncommon events. The Autumn Savings Sale is a significant event for the commoner, but the relevance of the store’s rigid of aisle-passing rules and lax pricing system is insight into the more common inconveniences of Atlanta’s citizens and commentary on our own seasonal shopping habits.

Death Rehearsals (1979, novella) – 5/5 – Julian and his priestess wife live only doors down from the room where two dying aliens lay side-by-side. He is charged with their care—observing the two-year drawn out swansong in their cold tomb-to-be. Meanwhile, a poetic flyer penned by Leland Tanner stirs his soul; he offers the romantic aging man a place in his home and lands him a position at the Geriatric Hostel, where Leland finds work, love and too much truth. 69 pages

Leland Tanner (the same chief scientists from “Old Folks at Home”) is now, himself, an elderly man in need of similar company. To express his sorrow, he illegally prints a sheet of poems and, in doing so, meets the current director of the Geriatric Hostel, who he hopes to woo. Disappointingly, his only recourse for companionship are the dying aliens down the hall. Though he seeks personal closure, a more significant closure looms over all.

Links to previous Michael Bishop Guest Posts [updated]

“Allegiances” (1975) (review by Peter S.)

A Little Knowledge (1977) (review by Heloise at Heloise Merlin’s Weblog)

Blooded on Arachne (1982) (selections) (review by Carl V. Anderson at Stainless Steel Droppings)

Brighten to Incandescence (2003) (review by MPorcius at MPorcius Fiction Log)

Brittle Innings (1994) (review by James Harris at Auxiliary Memory)

Catacomb Years (1979) (review by 2theD at Potpourri of Science Fiction Literature)

“Death and Designation Among the Asadi” (1973) (review by Jesse at Speculiction…)

“In Rubble, Pleading” (1974), “Death and Designation Among the Asadi” (1973), and “The White Otters of Childhood” (1973), (review by Admiral Ironbombs at Battered, Tattered, Yellowed & Creased)

No Enemy But Time (1982) (review by Megan at From Couch to Moon)

“The Quickening” (1981) (review by Max at Pechorin’s Journal)

~

Links to my three previously posted reviews of Bishop’s work

A Funeral for the Eyes of Fire (1975)

And Strange at Ecbatan the Trees (1976)

Stolen Faces (1977)

#1970s #aliens #avantGarde #michaelBishop #sciFi #scienceFiction #shortStories #technology

Guest Post: No Enemy But Time, Michael Bishop (1982)

(Vincent Di Fate’s cover for the 1983 edition)

The third installment of my Guest Post Series on Michael Bishop’s SF was written by Megan (twitter: @couchtomoon) over at the relatively new but completely worthwhile SF review site From Couch to the Moon.  She’s already put together a substantial list of delightful reviews.  Megan selected Bishop’s single most famous and Nebula award-winning novel, No Enemy But Time (1982)—and sadly, one of few books of his still in print.  Along with Transfigurations (1979), it was republished and selected for the Gollancz Masterwork [list].

No Enemy But Time (1982) — Michael Bishop

Coming out of Bishop’s 1982 Nebula award winning novel, No Enemy But Time, is like coming out of a time travel trance: the experience is jarring, hazy, and unwelcome. Bishop sweeps the reader into his world—humanity’s distant past—and paints a primitive African landscape dappled with hippos, hyenas, and volcanoes, but lush with the human experience. It’s a world where our ancestors, two million years removed, wear more flesh and charisma than our contemporaries. The reader befriends these charming hominids, shares in their struggles and triumphs, exalts in their communal efforts, only to be yanked back to the present where individuals misinterpret, neglect, and manipulate one another.

“All I am is a set of eyes, and the people I’m watching—they’re almost like people, but different, too—they can’t see me. They’re very hairy, but naked just under their hair” (Loc. 2568, Ch. 19).

(Uncredited cover for the 1983 Sphere edition)

Since infancy, Johnny Monegal has dreamed about the prehistoric past, a phenomenon he calls “spirit-traveling.” His dreams always lead him to the same time and place, Pleistocene era Africa, inspiring his curiosity about primitive humanity and influencing his informal expertise in paleoanthropology. But Johnny knows more about humanity’s past than he does his own, a black baby abandoned by a mute Spanish prostitute, and he later deserts his adoptive family, changes his name to Joshua Kampa, and flutters around Florida until a chance meeting with eminent paleoanthropologist Alistair Patrick Blair. Blair, and temporal physicist Woodrow Kaprow (Bishop has a thing for rhyming names), bring him to the African country of Zarakal, where he will test the technology that will unlock the past and allow his body to join him on his spirit travels.

Bishop’s love for the past is reflected in the romance between Joshua and Helen, a Homo habilis female who Joshua meets during his visit to the past. Helen is the member of a small troupe of habilines who grudgingly adopt Joshua as their resident outcast. Helen, a barren female of unusual height and with humanlike characteristics, shares Joshua’s outsider role, and they eventually mate and bond. Some readers may be disgusted by this pairing, and Bishop acknowledges this when Joshua states, “an old country boy like our Wyoming landlord Pete Grier would have seen more poetry in a farm boy’s hasty violation of an indifferent heifer than in my adult attraction to the willing Helen Habiline” (Loc. 2119, Ch. 16). But Helen, despite her hairy façade, is not an ape, and her advanced sapience and outsider status bridge the two million year gap. Helen and her habiline community represent the “innocent and beautiful” referenced in the Yeats poem from which the title is derived. (“The innocent and the beautiful/Have no enemy but time…” L. 3122, Ch. 22.)

As expected, common SF themes of violence and gender are explored in this novel about pre-human civilization. Typically maligned gender roles take on an innocent quality in the habilines’ primitive hunter-gatherer society, and Helen’s role, having no children to care for (although she yearns for this) and larger stature than most of the men, is stretched to benefit the hunt. But Bishop reminds us that the social boundaries we currently struggle to break were being formed in this early age, where “a big, strong, swift-footed, and cunning female was still a female” (Loc. 1586, Ch. 12) and “if you put on a child in this society, you were automatically dressed as a woman” (Loc. 4557, Ch. 28). And the violence, in which baby cheetahs and adopted Australopithecus children are clubbed to death, may be as dark and bloody as many modern movies and video games, but is never as gratuitous.

(John Jink’s cover for the 1989 edition)

But Bishop’s charm lies in his writing. Cool, placid, and precise, with a few snatches of dry humor that surprised a few laughs out of me. Images of habiline shaving cream fights and while the leader wears Fruit of the Looms (which gives new meaning to the phrases “wearing the pants” and “brief dethronement”) are funny, but the real humor lies within Bishop’s observations—never a punchline exactly, but built into the prose, and too corny or unwieldy to take out of context as a quote. This style fits well with the often jokey protagonist, who alternates first-person POV in the Stone Age with third-person POV in Joshua’s modern past. Joshua himself is an odd duck, an outsider in both the past and present, but with more empathy for his habiline companions. He wants to fit in with the “Minids,” whereas he makes little effort to fit in with modern-day Homo sapiens. His peculiar interactions with modern humans only emphasize his outsider status. In fact, I suspect his success with the “Minids” may be due to their limited language skills, which spares them from Joshua’s often inane babble.

Bishop’s wry humor goes beyond the silly imagery and quips that pepper his tale. He pranks his readers by setting up a traditional time travel paradox that, to my relief, he never delivers. He even withholds his anti-paradox time travel rules until the very end, just for the sake of the prank. Habilines with fire, Fruit of the Looms, and a few English words– not to mention sex with a Homo sapien– all have the potential to rock the foundation of human development at its core. And when the time traveler resembles his hominid community (short, dark, and initially speechless), with mysterious parental origins and vivid dreams (perhaps memories?) of humanity’s origins—even a casual SF reader can foresee the looming grandfather paradox. But when Helen births an albino female, and not a baby Joshua, the paradox is revealed as an illusion. And Bishop’s prank serves the rest of the story by fostering that illusion, casting doubt to Joshua’s entire story.

(Uncredited cover for the 2013 edition)

And that’s where the story should have ended. The illusion of time travel told by an unreliable protagonist fits well with the lingering tone of the story, but perhaps Bishop wanted to circumvent the hackneyed “it was all a dream” ending. Instead, Bishop switches gears and flips his resonating sociological study of human origins into a 007 thriller piece in which Josh’s halfbreed daughter catches the attentions of a slimy questionable crook with interests in future-travel. The last tenth of the novel is so out of character, I prefer to think that some idiot editor forced Bishop to axe his original ending (likely brilliant and moving) to wedge in this abrupt shift in tone, in order to dangle the possibility of a sequel. It’s just that terrible.

Or maybe it’s brilliant. Maybe Bishop designed his story to illustrate his interpretation of the chain of human evolution: slow and steady, difficult and harsh, but meaningful and communal, with the last tenth of our history rampaging toward the future in hollow, violent meaninglessness. Perhaps Bishop’s story structure is a reflection of his story’s message, in which he proclaims the end of evolution, likening our current social development to that of a tumor, a mutation rather than progress.

Because that last chapter was like a tumor in an otherwise perfect tale. It shocks the reader out of the powerful trance that Bishop fosters. It’s an unwelcome jolt from the cozy, warm slumber of spirit-travelling, and I was pissed when it happened. I want to go back.

Bishop succeeds where few speculative writers dare to tread. It’s common to imagine a future with endless possibilities, or to inject a documented past with dystopic tones. But to summon an unwritten past, and to gild our primitive ancestors with utopic optimism—it may not be very scientific, but it’s compelling and weighty. Bishop’s habilines hold a mirror to our supposed progress, causing the reader to reexamine their definition of “the good old days.”

~

Links to previous Michael Bishop Guest Posts [updated]

“Allegiances” (1975) (review by Peter S.)

A Little Knowledge (1977) (review by Heloise at Heloise Merlin’s Weblog)

Blooded on Arachne (1982) (selections) (review by Carl V. Anderson at Stainless Steel Droppings)

Brighten to Incandescence (2003) (review by MPorcius at MPorcius Fiction Log)

Brittle Innings (1994) (review by James Harris at Auxiliary Memory)

Catacomb Years (1979) (review by 2theD at Potpourri of Science Fiction Literature)

“Death and Designation Among the Asadi” (1973) (review by Jesse at Speculiction…)

“In Rubble, Pleading” (1974), “Death and Designation Among the Asadi” (1973), and “The White Otters of Childhood” (1973), (review by Admiral Ironbombs at Battered, Tattered, Yellowed & Creased)

No Enemy But Time (1982) (review by Megan at From Couch to Moon)

“The Quickening” (1981) (review by Max at Pechorin’s Journal)

~

Links to my three previously posted reviews of Bishop’s work

A Funeral for the Eyes of Fire (1975)

And Strange at Ecbatan the Trees (1976)

Stolen Faces (1977)

#1980s #bookReviews2 #experimental #michaelBishop #paperbacks #sciFi #scienceFiction #technology #timeTravel

Guest Post: “Death and Designation Among the Asadi,” Michael Bishop (1973)

The first installment in my Guest Post Series on The Science Fiction of Michael Bishop was written by Jesse over at the remarkable SF review site Speculiction… Not only is he incredibly prolific (and has a large back catalog of reviews to browse) but his reviews are also a joy to read.  If you are interested in both classic and contemporary SF, and the occasional post on Chinese poetry, make sure to check out his site.

Jesse has previously posted on his site about Bishop’s  “The Samurai in the Willows” (1976) and “Cri de Coeur” (1994).  Both reviews are worth reading.  

“Death and Designation Among the Asadi” (1973) is one of Michael Bishop’s more well known novellas that was nominated for both the Hugo and Nebula in 1974.  It was first published in the magazine Worlds of If January-February 1973, ed. Ejler Jakobsson.  If you are interested in finding a copy the story can be found in multiple later collections and forms the first part of his novel Transfigurations (1979) [listing here].

Enjoy!

~

“Death and Designation Among the Asadi,” Michael Bishop (1973)

The alien is perhaps the most recognized, if not the most used trope of science fiction.  World invaders (H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds), ethereal entities incomprehensible to humanity (Stanislaw Lem’s Solaris), mirrors to humanity (Ursula Le Guin’s The Word for World is Forest), cultural commentary on the Other (C.J. Cherryh’s Foreigner series), woman stealers (the cover of many a pulp magazine from the ‘30s), pinnacles of civilization (the Vulcan), and playgrounds for the imagination (any number of space operas would serve here), the extra-terrestrial has existed almost since the beginning of the genre, and in the time since has been portrayed in thousands of differing ways.  (To be honest, I would be curious what percentage of sci-fi has an alien of one sort or another present.  50%?  More?  Less?)  1973’s Death and Designation among the Asadi (1973) presents a Michael Bishop perspective of extra-terrestrials.  Though achieving a degree of viscerally alien only the most imaginative and insightful writers can hope for, the trope is utilized to express existential and cultural concerns of human proportion.

Death and Designation among the Asadi is the personal journals, research notes, and in situ voice recordings of the xenologist Egan Chaney, as compiled and presented by long time anthropologist and friend Thomas Benedict.  Chaney an eccentric personality, he has taken the mantle upon himself to live amongst the Asadi of BoskVeld in the hopes of furthering the knowledge gained by a predecessor.  The Asadi maned like male lions, Chaney thinks it best to enter the community with a shaved head thus to be viewed as a pariah, ignored by the mute, gray-skinned aliens.  The plan initially going off well, for months he is able to sit unmolested in their midst, making observations and drawing conclusions from their social behavior.  But not all is readily ascertainable.  An elderly Asadi appearing from the jungle with a winged homunculus perched on his shoulder one day, a mystery presents itself that begs resolution.  Trouble is, the learning process might be more than Chaney is capable of handling.

First appeared in the Worlds of If, January-February 1973 (cover: David A. Hardy)

One of the most realistically realized alien species in literature, the Asadi come vividly to life under Bishop’s facile pen.  A stylist aware of every letter, Chaney’s observations of Asadi behavior are unpacked one intriguing element at a time, the full weight—or as it were, mystery—of each given time to seep in before a new layer is exposed.  The impact at maximum, the reader is able to fully visualize Chaney’s experiences, the underlying uncertainty of the Asadi’s behavior palpable.  With the inclusion of the homunculus, not to mention a couple of other alien elements, the species become wholly separate from human affairs in setting, and yet, given peculiar physical similarities, perfectly capable of commenting upon them in primeval fashion.

Along with the life/death relationship Bishop, Death and Designation among the Asadi also delves into at least two more significant themes.  Isolation, socially and culturally, is one.  Though residing amongst a seemingly chaotic alien group, Chaney remains external, strong feelings of alienation the result.  Among the Asadi is a young male who Chaney comes to call the Bachelor.  Observing Chaney for as much as Chaney observes him, circumstances beyond the xenologists’ understanding contrive to isolate the Bachelor from his species, in turn relegating both of them to pariah status.  Though unable to communicate, the Bachelor thereafter becomes a significant parallel and juxtaposition to Chaney.  So affected by the unspoken relationship, in fact, Chaney’s decisions late in the story hinge upon it, his course of action rash from most perspectives but logical within the limits of the story.

Wrapped around isolation is Mircea Eliade’s concept of the Eternal Return.  Structure-wise, the first two-thirds of story peel back layer after layer of Asadi culture until a complete cycle is described.  The last third, however, begins a new cycle, one which answers some of Chaney (and the reader’s) most maddening questions, while simultaneously invoking a cycle of greater—and more mysterious—import.  The last page most certainly a return, Bishop encapsulates Eliade’s ideas perfectly in story, as well as at multiple levels within Asadi culture.

In the end, Death and Designation among the Asadi is as realistic a look at a truly alien group as is possible in literature.  The basic premise of the story (Asadi culture) detailed yet simple, Bishop relates an experience among an extra-terrestrial culture that operates at numerous levels.  From the personal confrontation of life and death to isolation—both cultural and societal, Bishop rounds off his wonderful creation by intertwining the concept of the Eternal Return at differing scales.  (Such a solid foundation of ideas, in fact, Bishop was able to expand the story to novel length, Transfigurations, published six years later, the result.)  Written with purpose from the first word onwards, the novella remains a fine balance of all things literary, and given the vivid evocativeness with which the Asadi are portrayed, it’s impossible for them not to leave an impression.

After all, there is a reason Joachim has chosen to spotlight Michael Bishop’s work…

~

Links to previous Michael Bishop Guest Posts [updated]

“Allegiances” (1975) (review by Peter S.)

A Little Knowledge (1977) (review by Heloise at Heloise Merlin’s Weblog)

Blooded on Arachne (1982) (selections) (review by Carl V. Anderson at Stainless Steel Droppings)

Brighten to Incandescence (2003) (review by MPorcius at MPorcius Fiction Log)

Brittle Innings (1994) (review by James Harris at Auxiliary Memory)

Catacomb Years (1979) (review by 2theD at Potpourri of Science Fiction Literature)

“Death and Designation Among the Asadi” (1973) (review by Jesse at Speculiction…)

“In Rubble, Pleading” (1974), “Death and Designation Among the Asadi” (1973), and “The White Otters of Childhood” (1973), (review by Admiral Ironbombs at Battered, Tattered, Yellowed & Creased)

No Enemy But Time (1982) (review by Megan at From Couch to Moon)

“The Quickening” (1981) (review by Max at Pechorin’s Journal)

~

Links to my three previously posted reviews of Bishop’s work

A Funeral for the Eyes of Fire (1975)

And Strange at Ecbatan the Trees (1976)

Stolen Faces (1977)

#aliens #bookReviews2 #experimental #michaelBishop #sciFi #scienceFiction #shortStories #spaceOpera #technology