As everyone knows, going outside is overrated. It’s full of noise, cars, and people I don’t know, which is reason enough to stay indoors for months on end while ignoring the panicked calls from friends and loved ones. However, today Berlin has decided to add a flurry of freezing snow into the mix – which is one of the weathers I absolutely will not tolerate (the others being rain, hail, wind, fog, and sun).
Instead of subjecting myself to this filthy grey slushie of cold air and strangers, I have decided to bless this blog with another entry. Because once again things insist on happening and I want to leave behind a record for any future survivors to stumble upon.
ANOTHER PRIZE
As those of you who’ve tapped my phone will know, it’s been a great past year when it comes to prizes. First, I made the shortlist for the Bristol Short Story Prize and was invited to the prize ceremony, with my story included in the resulting anthology. Then my short story collection was announced as a finalist for the Leapfrog Prize and was eventually declared first runner-up, which was exciting, if frustratingly close to winning and finally earning the attention of my idol and Leapfrog Press founder, Marge Piercy.
Well the latest is that I was longlisted for the Dzanc Books Short Story Collection Prize. This is wonderful news and brings the total number of prizes for which I’ve been longlisted, shortlisted, or else been a finalist or runner-up, to twelve. Of course I shall someday win one of these, thus finally sparking the doomsday prophecy.
REVIEW AT RECKONING
I need to talk about my latest review for the speculative climate magazine Reckoning, because I had the absolute privilege of critiquing What a Fish Looks Like (2025) by Syr Hayati Beker. This collection showcases a number of fairy tales that have been rewritten for the climate catastrophe, interspersed with notes between characters, poems, and even wonderfully-illustrated drawings. It also includes a strong cast of queer and trans characters.
From the outset, it’s clear that What a Fish Looks Like isn’t afraid to innovate. The evocative language and nonconventional format of its very first pages draw the reader into the book’s broken world, one where there are “no frogs left to kiss.” This is where climate futures and traditional tales mesh so well, as we’re immediately confronted with the natural core of fairytales that we’ve long taken for granted: forests and wolves; mice and pumpkins; fish and the sea. In this collection the names of old tales have been crossed out and replaced by a version that fits the eco-catastrophe. “The Little Mermaid” is changed to “Playlist 4Merx in Times of Sea Levels Rising”, “The Snow Queen” to “Server Farm Queen”, “Beauty and the Beast” to “What a Fish Looks Like”.
Long-time stalkers of mine will certainly be sick of me talking about this, but What a Fish Looks Like is a prime example of ambitopia – it’s an apocalyptic vision that presents new forms of community while exploring the many shapes of hope itself. I’ve never enjoyed the end of the world so thoroughly, and you can read my full review at Reckoning.
YEAR IN REVIEW
Finally, I contributed to the 2025 “Year in Review” over at Strange Horizons. As a huge zombie fan (someday I hope to survive my very own zombie apocalypse), I took the opportunity to talk about The Living Dead (2020), a novel begun by the legendary George A. Romero and finished by Daniel Kraus upon his passing. The novel’s a lot of fun, again with a diverse cast of characters that features plenty of queer representation. If you’re looking for something beyond the same old zombie disaster then I fully recommend it.
You may have noticed that this entry has been a little apocalypse-heavy, which only seems fitting considering the current state of The World Outside. For those in particularly unstable and uncertain scenarios, my heart is with you. Stay safe, stand up where you can, and look after each other.
There’s no joke to close with today.
In love, hope, and solidarity,
– Redfern