So this week I’m reading Boneshaker, by Cherie Priest, in which the release of rogue technology destroys much of Seattle and unleashes a toxic gas, known as the Blight, that kills most things it touches, and reanimates some of those things as the living dead. In other words, it’s just like the launch of Windows ME.
As you can probably tell by the goggles, Boneshaker falls into one of my favorite sub-genres, steampunk. This one is of the alternate-history sub-sub-genre, a la The Difference Engine, as opposed to, say, the alternate-world sub-sub-genre of Perdido Street Station or the alternate-American-West sub-sub-genre of The Half-Made World. So many steampunk sub-genres, so little time …
“I didn’t choose my parents; no one does. I could be forgiven for my father’s sins. But I did choose your father, and for that, they will never let me rest.”
Meanwhile, speaking of sub-genres, editing continues (albeit slowly, while the puppy is sleeping or otherwise occupied) on my dark fantasy/horror mash-up, Television Man:
Patrick ignored her as she went over to Bob and studied him. He wasn’t faking it, she thought; he really was deep in a fog, if not outright asleep. She considered slapping him a few times to snap him out of it, which would have been satisfying even if it was unsuccessful, but settled for nudging him with her foot instead. “Hey, Bob, wake up,” she said.
Patrick said, “Don’t bother. He’s totally out of it. He won’t even watch television.”
She grabbed Bob’s shoulders and gave him a good shake; his head lolled from one shoulder to the other like a deflated balloon on a string. “Bob! Is this any way for a vampire hunter to behave? Come on!”
“Vampire hunter? Be careful not to let them hear you validating his fantasy world.”
Well, you know, everyone needs a little validation now and then. Even vampire hunters.