Issue #219 of Interzone opens with “Everything That Matters” by Jeff Spock. The story kicks off with the viewpoint character being devoured by an immense, alien shark—an opening that’s right up there with exploding volcanoes on the list of “Tough Acts to Follow.” Russo escapes, alive but badly mutilated. We learn he’s scavenging for an underwater treasure with an untrustworthy partner; now he’ll have to add surgery and biomodifications to his body into his mix of troubles.

It’s a bit of a disappointing story to open the magazine with; this reviewer found little to enjoy. The scavenger plot thread is cliché, campy, and unsurprising; Russo learning to accept his new body might have been interesting, but almost nothing is done with it. The story’s characters are flat and do nothing to endear themselves to the reader; if they’d been a bit more colorful or witty, I’d at least have enjoyed this as a fun adventure. Alas, the closest we get is Russo’s constant fear for the well-being of his genitals. A tip, Mr. Spock: if your protagonist is less concerned about a) surviving the next hour, b) ever being able to walk again, c) his future career prospects, and d) his budding romantic relationship than he is about how soon his penis will be back to normal, the reader will surely adopt the same priorities. The degree to which this reviewer cares about precisely how soon the dull protagonist may regain full functionality in this area is left as an exercise to astute readers.

Jason Sanford, on the other hand, gets the full bang for his buck in “When Thorns Are the Tips of Trees.” The basic premise is a virus, a phage, which has infected the whole world over, and which has two effects. The first is that when a person dies, a thorny silicon tree grows, preserving the person’s memories and personality—and the living can speak to these trees, so the departed remain present in the lives of the living. The second is that each time two people touch, there is a small chance they will activate the phage and become trees prematurely. The story first introduces us to the changes that have been wrought to our world and then proceeds to introduce a threat to this new milieu: a group of dying people intent on destroying the thorn trees.

This story has two significant strengths. First and foremost, it succeeds in twisting our known, familiar world into something alien. The introduction of the phage into our world is not just “one more thing to deal with”—the story convincingly portrays how vastly different every aspect of life has become. Bringing about such deep change with a premise that can be explained in two sentences—that’s a very powerful accomplishment. The second strength is the intense personal narration, which serves both to create vivid, believable characters and to transform what might have been a lengthy infodump into something immediate, involving, and important.

As enjoyable as “When Thorns…” is, it’s not quite perfect. This reviewer was somewhat dismayed by the conclusion, which puts forth a statement that can certainly be argued for in a metaphorical sense, but whose specific implementation in the story’s world seems rather flawed. (On the other hand, like-minded readers can simply enjoy this as a story that has a conclusion they happen to disagree with.) Another slight problem is that it’s difficult to ignore the feeling that the phage is a heavily contrived plot device, tailor-made not by some eco-terrorist or careless scientist, but rather by the author, in order to bring about precisely the world that he wants. (Yet once this contrivance is swallowed—and we’ve all swallowed far worse—the rest, as I’ve written, flows naturally and convincingly from it.) Despite these complaints, “When Thorns…” is a story I’m glad to have read.

Alexander Marsh Freed’s “The Shenu” is a quick urban fantasy, and the fun of it is in its idiosyncratic cast of characters—each, in his own way, weird but likable. Chief among these is our protagonist, Karlos, who has sensitized himself to the arcane to such a degree that he can’t walk three steps without disturbing some mystic pattern or other. This claustrophobic existence serves as the well-portrayed focus of the story.

In terms of plot, though, “The Shenu” leaves something to be desired. Unclear plot developments pile up, one on top of the other, until they reach a finale the reader must accept with only the vaguest idea of how he got there. This is short enough that I can enjoy the cast and style and forgive the frustrating plot progression, but it’s a substantial flaw nonetheless.

Mercurio D. Rivera introduces us to “The Fifth Zhi”—number 5 in a family of clones preprogrammed with devotion to their mission, an appropriate skill set for the task, and as little individuality as possible. This cloning project is the result of the usual mix between desperation in the face of a terrible threat and the callousness of those who give the orders towards those who carry them out. This theme is familiar, from Joe Haldeman’s The Forever War to Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game and countless others. “The Fifth Zhi”’s use of clones is an excellent, highly appropriate riff on the theme. It’s a gripping story, featuring a unique, likable protagonist; it avoids being unambiguously polemical and gives a familiar conclusion a very satisfying twist.

Gordon Sellar’s “The Country of the Young” was distinctly my favorite piece in the issue. The SFnal conceit is a medical treatment which restores youth and prolongs life. The backdrop is a future North Korea, riddled with stark class divisions: rich and poor, North and South, Korean and foreign. Ji Ah’s Indian husband, Prabhir, is barred from receiving treatments in the country, and as time takes its toll, the couple finds themselves split across a new divide: young and old.

Sellar has done a superb job on every count. The characters and setting feel alive, three-dimensional, and absolutely convincing. From these, the plot grows naturally—absorbing, meaningful, and free of contrivance. And detail is handled perfectly, showing real-life richness and complexity without ever getting bogged down, and without ever leaving the reader missing crucial information. Kudos, Mr. Sellar, for an excellent story.

Aliette de Bodard closes off the issue’s fiction offering with “Butterfly, Falling At Dawn”—a murder mystery in de Bodard’s alternate history, in which North America was first settled by the Chinese. The victim is a Mexica hologram artist; the detective is Hue Ma—a rare Mexica who’s risen high in the Xuan ranks, leaving Mexica family and heritage behind.

I began reading, eager for a good mystery; sad to say, “Butterfly” was something of a letdown. Considered as a murder mystery, the cast of characters was dull and lacked personality, twists were few and unremarkable, and there were no interesting leads to pursue that might have held my attention. As an alternate history story, “Butterfly” made poor use of its setting—neither depending in any significant way on any of the world’s details nor showcasing any aspect of the setting that might be expected to interest us. There was also a story thread relating to the protagonist’s past, and trauma from the Civil War, but this thread felt poorly connected to the rest of the story—parallel and unrelated, and always taking a backseat to the murder mystery. In summary, no element of this story was done well enough for this reviewer to enjoy. Alack.

[Disclosure notice: The Fix is brought to you by TTA Press, publisher of Interzone.]