Dangerous Space

Rarely have I been so amazed, so impressed, so flat-out blown away by a collection of short stories. Even among those few writers who are skilled at the form (John Varley and Connie Willis spring to mind for science-fiction readers), their short stories can't compare to their full-length novels. They may be enjoyable, interesting thought exercises, but short stories never seemed to carry the heft or the excitement that I knew an author was capable of. Well, scratch all those assumptions when it comes to Kelley Eskridge. As much as I loved "Solitaire," her only novel to date (and let's work on that, can we?), "Dangerous Space" moves Eskridge into another level entirely, as far as I'm concerned. The stories in this collection span the spectrum, from contemporary fiction to classic sword-and-sorcery fantasy to hard sci-fi and speculative fiction. And yet, while in another author you might be frustrated by this flitting from one genre to another, Eskridge is so talented at whatever she sets her hand to that I found myself wondering what else she might be capable of. Love, and the many maddening, variable, indefinable forms it takes, are major themes of Eskridge's work. That's what makes the character of Mars so wonderful. It might seem a gimmick to have such a gender-neutral recurring character - indeed, from a lesser writer, that's exactly what it would become. But Mars is more than an exercise. S/he challenges our very assumptions about gender, making us first obsess about his/her sex, and then gently showing us, by the end of each story, how silly and unimportant such concerns are. Man, woman - it doesn't matter, Mars is a force of nature, one of the most complex, complete, and fascinating characters I've ever had the pleasure to read. I wish we could get a Mars novel, but I suspect that Eskridge couldn't keep the secret for that long without it becoming awkward. For now, we have "And Salome Danced," "Eye of the Storm," and the title story "Dangerous Space." Other stories address the irrepressible creativity of the human spirit (the Harrison Bergeron-like "Strings"); the nature of pain and our humanity (the heartbreaking "Alien Jane"); and the rarely-discussed price that must be paid to balance the scales when someone is offered a unique, even magical gift ("City Life"). Few of these stories have typical happy endings, and many of them are downright disturbing, in that delicious, claw-their-way-into-your-subconscious fashion. These are stories that will stick with you long after you put them down. Ms. Eskridge, please, please don't make us wait another five years for your next offering!

This collection of stories gives more than reading pleasure, it gives a view into many places most people don't even think to look. Using various settings and characters Kelley Eskridge tells the story of people. Through these characters we are in their skin as Eskridge skillfully reaches into the feelings and motives of the stranger you are sharing a public space with or acquintainces who you can follow from limited knowledge to the most intimate of friends and lovers. Using art in all it's forms makes it possible for the author to share insights through the eyes and feelings of her characters. In doing this the author shows her observational abilities to the nth degree. For me the most powerful of these arts was the music. I don't know if this author is also a musician but she really gets the scene, it's authentic. It's difficult to say in just a few words how smart this book is.

Greatness in writing is hard to achieve. But it's not as hard to recognize. Great writing reaches right through the page to you, so that you are no longer reading, you are experiencing the world the author has created. Most writers never touch it, or touch it only for a moment. So when you find an author who lives in that space, you are blessed. You see life in a different way, and you are never the same again. Kelley Eskridge is such an author. Her new collection, Dangerous Space, proves it. Weeks after reading it, I find myself wondering, "What's Mars up to? How is it working out for him and ..." Then I stop. For a moment, I might have sent him an email, or picked up the phone. But the Net doesn't go where he lives, and the country code is nowhere listed. For a moment, reality hangs by a thread, and I might go over to that music bar, Lillie's Place in Seattle, and see him working the board for Noir, a band that just might be the next big thing... In the title story, Noir does a song with the refrain, "The water is deep here, the ground is uncertain / It's dangerous space this far inside of me". You don't read it, you hear it. And your world expands to hold it... Buy this book.

Writers who can do both novels and short stories with equal style and power are rare. Kelley Eskridge proved herself a novelist of the first water with "Solitaire." Now there's "Dangerous Space." The book is her first short story collection, from Aqueduct Press. Most of the stories included here I'd read before, in various places. The centerpiece, though, is brand new, the title novella. Kelley is rough, but not in the sense of unpolished. She writes some of the most seductive prose I've ever seen. It's impossible not to think of sexual similes--you read her and you think, "Wow, very sexy, this'll be nice, a very fine one night stand" and you wake up the next morning in love. Or at least unwilling to stay away. I choose the comparison intentionally, because the title story is about sex. About music. About the psyche you find in the mix, where music touches that which is most intimate, and the only other thing that comes even close to such an affect is sex, the best sex, the sex that teaches. But it is very much about music. I felt occasionally that she was describing me (but only coincidentally) and the way I feel about music, about certain bands, certain songs, certain artists. She knows this stuff, too, from the inside out. She writes like someone who has been backstage, during set-up or break-down; she's seen the aftershocks of a great performance, and she can describe that fulfilled-empty space that is creative aftermath. And she makes you feel it. That's the rough part. Because anything that good has down sides. It's only ever all good when the experience is superficial. Which is to say that it's not that good, but there's nothing substantive to compare it with except a warm afterglow that's entirely of your own making. Nothing's been shared until you get close to the whole package, which is rough. Kelley is one of those few writers that intimidates me, that makes me question why I bother. Oh, I get over it, and I count that reaction as a positive thing, because it makes me try a little harder next time. I'm not going to talk about the rest of the stories--there's a foreword by Geoff Ryman and he clearly observed more about these stories than I did, even while I helped workshop a couple of them, and I can't add anything substantive to his remarks, just keep nodding and going "Yeah, yeah"--except to say that they are wonderful. And that music is the best way to describe the flow of them, the sensuality they evoke. So, yeah, this is a recommendation, very much so. But a caveat, too--prepared to get personal when you read these stories. They're rough that way--and very beautiful.

I can recommend this book without hesitation. This is idea-driven fiction, but not the kind that wastes words on explanations and excuses. More dreams and nightmares than mere stories, they lead down unexpected roads to destinations made familiar by the raw emotions they evoke. The gender ambiguity of the characters has the effect of turning them into mirrors, accessible to any reader -- an incredible accomplishment given how strictly gendered art often is (and society at large). And the writing is cool the way a cult movie is cool, with a daring intensity and an underground edge unmatched in the mainstream. All in all, an amazing collection of stories.