Nautical but nice

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(also, btw, the book links are to the Storygraph, which includes content warnings for each one!)

smth funny and lighthearted about a security robot who’d rather watch TV then do its job? all systems red by martha wells (first novella in the The Murderbot Diaries series, 6 books, ongoing)

a complex, intricate political space opera following a warship AI who’s lost (almost) everything? ancillary justice by ann leckie (first in the Imperial Radch trilogy) (fun fact! bc of space linguistics reasons, all characters in this series are referred to with she/her pronouns, making gender a non-factor - it’s really cool!)

a dark story about travelling between parallel universes and a woman who is dead in almost every single one? the space between worlds by micaiah johnson (standalone) (SO good, i don’t get to recommend it often enough!!!)

a story about grief and letting go, and a unique take on alien invasion? the seep by chana porter (standalone novella)

hey, how abt some dystopian YA, for old times sake? specifically, one with sapphics and sick mechas? try gearbreakers by zoe hana mikuta (first in duology)

or, if you’d prefer something a bit less angsty, YA about a ragtag group of teens and a space heist? the disasters by m. k. england (standalone)

alternate history steampunk that blurs the line btwn science fiction and fantasy? the black god’s drums by p. djeli clark (standalone, novella)

a dark gone girl-esque thriller about clones? the echo wife by sarah gailey (standalone)

poetic sapphic romance and time travel? this is how you lose the time war by max gladstone and amal el-mohtar (standalone)

a hopeful utopian future and a human-robot friendship? a psalm for the wild-built by becky chambers (novella, first out of two) (this author’s got a whole bunch of hopepunk sci-fi novels in general, if that’s smth you’re looking for!)

africanfuturism, coming-of-age, and cool jellyfish aliens? binti by nnedi okorafor (novella, first in trilogy)

spicy lesbian cyborgs? and shall machines surrender my benjanun sriduangkaew (novella, first in the Machine Mandate series, 6 books)

cosmic horror with an autistic scientist, cyborg angels and AI gods? the outside by ada hoffmann (first in trilogy, 2 books are out)

also, if you’re a fan of Janelle Monáe, may i draw your attention to the fact that they’ve recently come out with a Dirty Computer short story collection, each story co-written with a diff writer?

this list is long enough, but have some more authors (who are not cis men) also worth checking out: rivers solomon, yoon ha lee, charlie jane anders, aliette de bodard, xiran jay zhao, mary robinette kowal, corinne duyvis

The cliffs had fallen away behind them; the Continent was a faint smudge on the horizon. One of the large ships of the blockade—a first-rate, or a second-rate? He should have to ask Laurence—was beating up the Channel on control, working against the wind that was diving beneath them. Only mizzen and mainsails spread, but she was still impressive, and to Temeraire’s surprised delight she fired a salute as their shadows came streaming over the waves and ran up her sails. “Laurence, what is that ship?” he asked. Laurence trained his glass upon her and after a moment said, “My dear, that is the Temeraire, herself.”

Elena Gualtierotti (Italian,b.1961)

Sunset Colors, 2021

It's hard. I keep my smile on my face but it's hard while Jon dips Cassy into a low kiss and the crowd erupts in cheers. Their numbers cross in the motion - the 15 above Cassy's veil and the 58 over his head. I'm glad Cassy made the hard decision to pass me over as Maid of Honor. It was either me or her older sister Jess who'd been estranged from her family for years before her diagnosis, which came at the end of June and, for Jess, made some things more important than family squabbles. Jess delivers her speech through happy tears to a reception of 114 guests, and I watch the 2 above her head the entire time.

Cassy has tipped up to 17, because there are more people at the reception than at the ceremony. 17 out of 116 attendants. And the newly emblazoned 61 above Jon sends cold ripples through my veins. He'd yelled at her in the bridal suite just an hour before. He wasn't allowed in there. But Cassy had messed up seating Jon's cousins, and he'd grabbed her arm with the accusation. I'd pulled him off and in that bridal suite of 10 people, tears in her mascara, Cassy had worn the 1.

I wonder cold thoughts now. Jon and Cassy kiss.

On my mom's front porch, the egg timer goes off. She hops to her feet, and Jackson does a little stretch-and-roll while Winston scrabbles up on puppy-feet eager to follow. Mom slides the screen door open and shut, and then open again with a tray of biscuits in hand. I take one, light touches against its radiating heat.

"So, you know I'm going to ask." "Mom--" There's a 1 above her head. "Is there anyone--" "No, Mom." I never factor in. I can't see my own number. If I'm alone with someone, they're the 1, and I'm at ease. "Do you remember Donny from high school?" "Donny who got in trouble for huffing glue?" "Donny was baseball captain--" "And he huffed glue--" "And he's very nice. Still in town. Works at Dave's Meats."

I stroke Jackson's gray fur. He's warm in the sunlight, and very sweet right now after being an absolute hellion little shit for me getting him in his carrier and driving with him to Mom's place.

"You really don't want to meet a nice man...?" Mom asks. "...Or woman? It could--you know--if that's--"

"No--thank you that's nice, Mom--but I'm very happy with Jackson being the only man of the house." Jackson rolls over and shows his bear-trap belly. He has no number. Neither does Winston, with his big puppy paws pressed against Mom's knee, huffing for biscuit.

There's still a chair out here for Dad, 20 years out of date. Jackson is happy in it now. But I remember how Dad looked in this chair. His 1 to Mom's 2. His 1 that followed him. In church. In movie theaters. In grocery stores. At seven years old I didn't know what the numbers meant. Just that Mom's got real big in big stores. And Dad's never would.

I don't want to meet Donny. I don't want to fall in love with anyone who might wear the 1 at the grocery story.

Mom shuffles her toes. She takes a bite of her biscuit and tears off a little chunk to throw to Winston. "If you don't want a man... if you did still want kids, well--" "Mom--" "I'm home all day. I'd babysit all the time. Winston loves kids." "It's just not right for me." "I know you said that. But you might change your mind."

I won't, though. Because I can manage like this. I can go to restaurants with Lindsey and Doug, who say treatment is going so very well, and ignore the 4 above his head the whole time. I can visit Bethanne for Thanksgiving and be so very normal when her number is lower than her grandmother's.