| Amplitudes: Stories of Queer and Trans Futurity, edited by Lee Mandela, who describes the anthology’s heart in the introduction: Queerness itself rejects the oppressive status quo of the here and now, offering instead endlessly interconnected ways to imagine the “concrete possibility” of another world, another future. Or many other futures. The same question, of course, underlies some of the most powerful speculative fiction of the last century: but what if things were different? Almost every entry in the anthology was excellent in both content and execution, making this story collection one of the best I’ve read. It was challenging to limit my selections for this review. |
| “The Republic of Ecstatic Consent” by Sam J. Miller Starts with a polyamorous hippie-like group forming and diverging and reforming over the course of a day. The writing is stellar: Because what am I supposed to do with this dull fire, this yawning soaring song inside my chest, this love so strong I’m sometimes afraid it’ll crack me like an egg? What do I do in these moments when I scan the crowded subway car or watch the street trees sigh in the wind and I feel my heart might break from how happy I am . . . how could I want [my old life] when what’s real and here and now is so astonishing? |
The closing: Nell’s not the kid, and Nell’s not the Moonwife, either. Not anymore. … She’s got a visit to pay. The streetlights are out, but Nell doesn’t mind—the blue-white moon overhead is bright enough to light her way.
| “Forever Won’t End Like This” by Dominique Dickey tells the story of a Black trans actor, Ted, playing a Black trans person. He loathes the press tours with his more successful co-actors—except for the moments when he meets a fan who connects with his trans character. It’s an interesting analysis of the burden of being an icon—in a medium that uses characters to drive drama, with no regard for their importance to vulnerable fans. |
My assistant is on paternity, so it’s just Johnny and me with flashlights for the stretches where the lighting has failed or been stripped out. My beam catches bioluminescent mold more often than people.
Almost no one lives down here.
Almost.
| “There Used to Be Peace” by Margaret Killjoy imagines a knighthood of queer warriors fighting confederate renegades after the fall of the United States. The narrator, Catalina, has a snarky sense of humor: Israa was on the other side of the enemy line, organizing medical care for the refugee train. You know what they say about us lesbians, hell hath no fury like a sapphic cut off from her lover. So if I had to murder some confederates, I would murder some confederates. The tale is a wonderful mix of heroic action and thoughtful insights. I especially enjoyed the noble tenets of knighthood they aspire to follow. |
The author does a masterful job revealing the narrator’s background and the precarious political situation, escalating the stakes on every page.
| “When the Devil Comes from Babylon” by Maya Deane is set in a restrictive Christian community. The narrator wrestles with their “sick lusts.” By daylight I can usually crush down my wickedness, but it always bubbles up again at night. The narrator is a boy who prefers to do girl work, much to the disgust of his mother and the other righteous believers. At his grandfather’s deathbed he witnesses the angelic “Devil” everyone fears. The story is a masterful balance of the beliefs we inherit and the truths we must learn for ourselves. The ending is especially beautiful. |
A cat didn’t spend its days wondering what it was for, ruing that it hadn’t gone into space. A cat puked and left the mess on the floor, already forgotten. A cat would not aspire to leave the planet. It understood the joys of warm satellite dishes and cuddling with neighbors.
| In “The Garden of Collective Memory” by Neon Yang, people can sell their memories. The story’s narrator has a potentially lucrative memory to sell. Running throughout the story is an undercurrent of jealousy toward her single and professionally successful friend, and dissatisfaction with her boring married life with her wife, Natalie. It takes an angry confrontation to help her see what she’s overlooking: A dozen years from now I’ll look back on these moments and wonder how I ever found them dull. What do I care what other people think of the memories I’m making, so long as they make me happy. |
When the son goes into withdrawal, the detective calls on an old friend to help save him—but the price includes dealing with the worst of the city’s criminal underworld.
| Paul Evanby layers emotion and spy-thriller action in his complex story, “Blueprint for the Destruction of Solitude.” The opening lines: The rain is wet again. Has been for weeks. I like the feeling of moisture on my skin, but water from heaven is not going to win this war. The narrator meets his “contact” in a dance club and they exchange chemical data via a kiss. As the data transmits: We speak of loneliness and the fear we experience every day when we move through the city streets. … Of the corrosive certainty that a single mistake is enough to condemn us. |
Rooms writhe and spin around and around, like a single animal that’s in love with itself. Everybody is so kind to one another. There’s no wrong body [and] the whole Shack shimmies.
The stories in Amplitudes: Stories of Queer and Trans Futurity are wide ranging, yet consistently well written and with thematic depth. A 2026 Ignyte Award Finalist. Highly Recommended.
Even Greater Mistakes; The Best of World SFF; The Paper Menagerie and Other Stories;
Pump Six; The Mammoth Book of SF by Women; Dispatches from Anarres
Read more fiction featuring trans and queer characters:
The Four Profound Weaves, Light from Uncommon Stars,
The Bruising of Qilwa, Sistersong, Spear, Most Ardently