Featuring new fiction by Sam J. Miller, A. Merc Rustad, Cassandra Khaw, Maria Dahvana Headley, Theodora Goss, and Tansy Rayner Roberts, reprinted fiction by Ann Leckie, essays by Mark Oshiro, Natalie Luhrs, Delilah S. Dawson, and Angel Cruz, poetry by Carlos Hernandez, Nin Harris, and Nicasio Andres Reed, interviews with A. Merc Rustad and Maria Dahvana Headley by Julia Rios, a cover by John Picacio, and an editorial by Lynne M. Thomas and Michael Damian Thomas.
Featuring new fiction by Beth Cato, Stephen Graham Jones, JY Yang, Sarah Pinsker, and S. Qiouyi Lu, reprinted fiction by Kameron Hurley, essays by Sam J. Miller, Elsa Sjunneson-Henry, Shveta Thakrar, Dawn Xiana Moon, and Paul Booth, poetry by Cassandra Khaw, Brandon O’Brien, Bogi Takács, and Lisa M. Bradley, interviews with Stephen Graham Jones and Sarah Pinsker by Julia Rios, a cover by Julie Dillon, and an editorial by Lynne M. Thomas and Michael Damian Thomas.
Featuring new fiction by Maria Dahvana Headley, Kat Howard, Max Gladstone, Amelia Beamer, Ken Liu, and Christopher Barzak, classic fiction by Jay Lake, essays by Sarah Kuhn, Tansy Rayner Roberts, Christopher J Garcia, plus a Worldcon Roundtable featuring Emma England, Michael Lee, Helen Montgomery, Steven H Silver, and Pablo Vazquez, poetry by Neil Gaiman, Amal El-Mohtar, and Sonya Taaffe, interviews with Maria Dahvana Headley, Deborah Stanish, Beth Meacham on Jay Lake, and Christopher Barzak, and a cover by Galen Dara.
From the perspective of those who live in Herot Hall, the suburb is a paradise. Picket fences divide buildings—high and gabled—and the community is entirely self-sustaining. Each house has its own fireplace, each fireplace is fitted with a container of lighter fluid, and outside—in lawns and on playgrounds—wildflowers seed themselves in neat rows. But for those who live surreptitiously along Herot Hall’s periphery, the subdivision is a fortress guarded by an intense network of gates, surveillance cameras, and motion-activated lights.
For Willa, the wife of Roger Herot (heir of Herot Hall), life moves at a charmingly slow pace. She flits between mommy groups, playdates, cocktail hour, and dinner parties, always with her son, Dylan, in tow. Meanwhile, in a cave in the mountains just beyond the limits of Herot Hall lives Gren, short for Grendel, as well as his mother, Dana, a former soldier who gave birth as if by chance. Dana didn’t want Gren, didn’t plan Gren, and doesn’t know how she got Gren, but when she returned from war, there he was. When Gren, unaware of the borders erected to keep him at bay, ventures into Herot Hall and runs off with Dylan, Dana’s and Willa’s worlds collide.
After the climate wars, a floating city is constructed in the Arctic Circle, a remarkable feat of mechanical and social engineering, complete with geothermal heating and sustainable energy. The city’s denizens have become accustomed to a roughshod new way of living, however, the city is starting to fray along the edges—crime and corruption have set in, the contradictions of incredible wealth alongside direst poverty are spawning unrest, and a new disease called “the breaks” is ravaging the population.
When a strange new visitor arrives—a woman riding an orca, with a polar bear at her side—the city is entranced. The “orcamancer,” as she’s known, very subtly brings together four people—each living on the periphery—to stage unprecedented acts of resistance. By banding together to save their city before it crumbles under the weight of its own decay, they will learn shocking truths about themselves.
Blackfish City is a remarkably urgent—and ultimately very hopeful—novel about political corruption, organized crime, technology run amok, the consequences of climate change, gender identity, and the unifying power of human connection.