| Breathmoss and Other Exhalations | ||||||||
| Ian R. MacLeod | ||||||||
| Golden Gryphon Press, 310 pages | ||||||||
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A review by Chris Przybyszewski
MacLeod starts with one of the biggest 'lies' of the book in his first selection, a novella he calls "Breathmoss." He sets this
story on a fantasy world that implants spores called Breathmoss into the lungs of its young so that they can breath in the
environment. The world is predominantly female, with only two males hanging around the coast at the beginning of the story. The
author does not take full advantage of his matriarchy in that he does not show how a predominantly female world would be necessarily
different from a predominantly male world. While his point is that there is no difference, that hardly makes for interesting
writing. Author Melanie Rawn hit the same snag in her Exiles series.
Macleod tells a singularly visual tale. "The breathmoss, too, had turned russet-gold. Leaning close to it beneath this tranquil sky,
which was composed of a blue so pale it was as if the sea had been caught in reflection inside an upturned white bowl, was like
looking into the arms of a miniature forest." MacLeod asks the reader to consider both the plant described as well as the sky above,
reinforcing the biological function of the breathmoss (i.e. air).
The world of "Breathmoss" is terribly original, a living, breathing space of reality that lacks ornamentation and that holds an
internal truth. MacLeod teaches the reader a new language, and many of the words are of his own creation. This new language draws
us into the story and as the language is understood more regularly, the characters are perceived in a new way.
A second piece looks at a smaller sort of lie and the possibility of precociously bad luck invading the hyper-superstitious world
of WWII bomber pilots. In "The Chop Girl," MacLeod combines a Twilight Zone eeriness with a compelling first person
voice in the form of a female steward present at the bomber base. MacLeod captures the feeling of imminent death so prevalent among
those 'Flying Fortress' pilots who helplessly hung in the air, waiting for a bit of shrapnel or the guns of an enemy aircraft to
turn their planes into balls of flame. Wrapped in that inevitably of death, MacLeod shows the value of life and how simple moments
of intimacy can have the greatest of impacts.
A third example is a short story set in the near present, but that has a feel of the first of America's short stories. This
selection, "The Noonday Pool" shows the struggle of an old man (composer Sir Edgar Elgar) to shed the trappings of his world in
order to find that one true moment of creation in nature. This story resonates like a Hawthorne short story, with its presentation
of the natural world and man's odd ambivalence to that world. This story shows no judgments of good and evil. Rather the story
presents a meditation on the way life progresses toward death and how that death looks a lot like a quiet moment next to a
beautiful lake. That lake can show the inner being of a man, even when that inner self is not a pretty thing to see.
MacLeod's reverence to good writing transcends the word 'genre.' While that word in relation to fantasy and science fiction
denotes certain technical strengths (characterization and plot), it can also denote weaknesses (theme and style). By ignoring
the limits of the genre, MacLeod goes past that genre and creates something special.
Chris learned to read from books of fantasy and science fiction, in that order. And any time he can find a graphic novel that inspires, that's good too. |
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