Community Thursday
Nov. 20th, 2025 06:46 amPosted & commented on
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Anthologies tend to make less money than novels, yet they keep appearing. And I keep reading them. An anthology offers the chance to read a carefully curated selection, and I love short stories as an art form.
Apex Book Company asked me if I’d like to read an advanced copy of ECO24, The Year's Best Speculative Ecofiction, and offer a blurb if I liked it.
I liked it a lot. Like every good anthology, the stories offer a range of approaches, including literary science fiction, magical realism, and dark fantasy. Some are set in the present, such as the war in Ukraine, others in the future, and they feature settings around our planet and beyond. Some are grim, many hopeful.
My favorite is “The Plasticity of Being” by Renan Bernardo, which illustrates the paradoxes of offering help to poor people. I also especially enjoyed “Bodies” by Cat McMahon about the dangers of being a clone, and “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackened Husk of a Planet” by Adeline Wong about the emotional weight of being a student, with hints of poetry. But I could go on. There’s the quiet wisdom of “Batter and Pearl” by Steph Kwiatkowski, and the aspiration of “Father Time Dares You to Dream” by Trae Hawkins — and both stories take place near me.
My blurb:
Each author offers us a unique ecological niche to reveal what our present and future could be, ranging from wrenching disasters to elating possibilities of recovery. These stories are personal and lyrical, and the breadth of imagination and styles make this anthology dazzling. Every story is a gem.


I might manage four of those? The last two are non-negotiable.
ETA: Some of those check marks are from over the weekend. :-)
Community Thursday challenge: every Thursday, try to make an effort to engage with a community on Dreamwidth, whether that's posting, commenting, promoting, etc.
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bnha_fans.
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Signal boosts:
In the last seven days, I've used AI
for work
5 (9.1%)
for fun / personal reasons
0 (0.0%)
for interacting with organisations
0 (0.0%)
against my will
14 (25.5%)
not at all, that I'm aware of
37 (67.3%)
other
1 (1.8%)
ticky-box full of fandom-adjacent profic
15 (27.3%)
ticky-box full of fish fish fish fish fish
19 (34.5%)
ticky-box full of vague groaning noises
19 (34.5%)
ticky-box full of alpine octopuses practising their yodelling
22 (40.0%)
ticky-box full of hugs!
37 (67.3%)

I translated the poems in Liquid Sand / Arena Líquida with my Spanish friend Christian. One of us would draft the translation of a poem, then we would pass it back and forth, debating words, lines, and meaning — the goal of a translation is always to maintain the meaning. We didn’t quibble much. Translation is easiest when the original work is well-written.
In the opening poem, “Nadie / No One,” Ulysses returns to Ithaca to become a specter among his own memories. While there’s no way to summarize a collection of 42 poems, the theme of time occurs often. Time moves, and we move, but in different directions for different reasons, as the poem “Negro Sol / Black Sun” says:
The afternoon weighs heavily
toward its settlement. Ours
is due to a harder sun
and we have had to learn
to walk beneath its burden.
Liquid Sand / Arena Líquida is the first major bilingual collection of poems by Jorge Valdés Díaz-Vélez, one of Mexico’s most respected contemporary poets. Published this month by Shearsman Books and available from most bookstores, it gathers works by Valdés Díaz-Vélez selected from six previous collections that span more than two decades of writing.
Madrid Review Magazine says:
“In these pages, Valdés Díaz-Vélez explores time, memory, and the fragile equilibrium between movement and stillness. His poems evoke the physical and emotional geographies of the Americas while questioning belonging, transformation, and endurance. The English versions retain the clarity and meditative strength of the originals, inviting readers to cross the line between two languages and two sensibilities. To read Liquid Sand / Arena Líquida is to encounter poetry that is precise, reflective, and alert to the unseen rhythms of contemporary life. It is a landmark publication for readers of bilingual and Latin American literature.”
