News & Press from The Future Fire

Tuesday, 7 October 2025

Micro-interview with Rowley Amato

Rowley Amato, author of “The Sons of Victor Levitak” in The Future Fire #74, joins us to talk about his story and other speculative matters in our micro-interview series.

TFF: What does “The Sons of Victor Levitak” mean to you?

Rowley Amato: “The Sons of Victor Levitak” is a wistful look back at a time when the American Jewish Left was muscular, organized, and unapologetically radical. I am a proud Jew, and with global fascism on the march and genocide being committed in our name, I sort of see this story as an attempt to reclaim and assert that radical history, and perhaps show that an alternative world is possible. I was primarily influenced by three texts: a 2020 article in Jewish Currents magazine about leftist co-op developments of the Bronx; Cynthia Ozick’s 1997 novel The Puttermesser Papers; and the rabbi Joshua Trachtenberg’s writings on Jewish magic and folklore. Each of these works move me deeply, and they inform the voice, content, and general vibe of my story in different ways.

TFF: Have you ever wished you could go back in time and change just one thing?

RA: Yes, and I think about this question all the time. There are lots of “big” things I would change (e.g., killing Hitler, thwarting the assasination of Lincoln, etc.), but I will keep things local: I would go back in time to the early 1930s and stop the New York City urban planner Robert Moses from seizing control of the Triborough Bridge Authority. This would deny him the source of power and funding that allowed him to inflict his wildly destructive agenda on the Bronx and New York City as a whole. Of course, the unintended consequences could be dire, so the only responsible answer is that I am not one to meddle with time travel.

TFF: What are you working on next?

RA: I’m currently working on a few horror short stories. I’ve also started planning a science fiction/mystery novel.

Extract

Victor Levitak was not well-loved by the other residents of the Coop, but we sat a feeble shiva for him anyway.

Marty Feinberg worked with Victor on the fabric cutters’ line down at the Lefcourt lofts and was, by our estimation, the closest thing he had to a friend. We looked to him to deliver the mourner’s kaddish. He stared at his shoes and quickly rushed through words that held no meaning for us, until, eventually, his Hebrew failed him.

“Well, anyway… he found peace.” He shrugged. “A great blessing, in my opinion.”

Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2025/09/new-issue-202574.html.

Monday, 29 September 2025

Micro-interview with Naomi Simone Borwein

We’re joined by Naomi Simone Borwein, author of the wonderful poem “The Void Is in a Playful Mood Tonight” in The Future Fire #74, to talk about alienation, transmateriality, and writing.

TFF: What does “The Void Is in a Playful Mood Tonight” mean to you?

Naomi Simone Borwein: On one level, this poem is about the conscious universe and “our” presence in it. On another level, it is about alienation.

TFF: Is poetry a speculative genre or medium by default, would you say?

NSB: Metaphor can be envisioned as a conceptual network of meaning(s) linked by more or less abstract layers of motile, sensory, and visual codices that are actualized through poetry; it is a somatic slippage of meaning. That transmateriality of meaning, which embodies divergent manifestations or reinterpretations of “reality” again and again, can be pretty surreal, speculative even, so potentially yes.

TFF: If you were the captain of a ship, what would you name her?

NSB: Dearly Departed.

TFF: What is the most important thing to remember about writing?

NSB:

It’s trite but read every day and write every day, and if you cannot write, read read read until you can
Writing is like channeling vengeful spirits

TFF: What are you working on next?

NSB: Some academic volumes, a spec fic novel, and the usual insomnia-fuelled poetry and short fiction… that may never see the light of day.

Extract

This is your fault, witch.
It had a voice like rusty chains.
And cracking joints.

Reminder: You can comment on any of the writing or art in this issue at http://press.futurefire.net/2025/09/new-issue-202574.html.

Saturday, 13 September 2025

New issue: 2025.74

“We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art—the art of words.”

—Ursula K. Le Guin (National Book Awards, 2014)

Issue 2025.74

Download e-book version: PDF | EPUB

Wednesday, 7 May 2025

New issue: 2025.73

“Progress has to do with all mankind, not alone with the calm, the wise, and the patient. There is youth in the world, and youth is generally neither calm nor patient; it does not like to sit in the rear rows and listen to mature considerations rendered in the tone of a stock-market quotation concerning questions that are burning up its heart, itself silent; if it did, it might learn to be wise and calm,—and also ashy and inert. There is feeling in the world, and a very great quantity of it; and those who do the suffering and the sympathizing may be expected to say and to do many things not within the limits of logic.”

—Voltairine de Cleyre (1907)

Issue 2025.73

Short stories

‘Born of the Mountain's Chill’, Louise Hughes - art by L.E. Badillo
‘Bright Bleeding Girls’, J.L. George - art by Sebastian Timpe
‘Dare Seize the Fire’, Jennifer R. Donohue - art by L.E. Badillo
‘Treading Invisible Threads’, Juliet Kemp - art by Sebastian Timpe

Novelettes

‘The Anarchivist’, Owen Leddy - art by Ellis Bray
‘Wishes Slick Like Eels’, Irene Liang - art by Peter Harrison

Poetry

‘Dissolution’, Danielle Levsky - art by Ellis Bray
‘The Cassandra Effect’, M. Frost - art by Chourabitaher

Download e-book version: PDF | EPUB

Saturday, 1 March 2025

An Epic in Verse - guest post from Mary Soon Lee

An Epic in Verse

Mary Soon Lee

Once upon a time, fantastical epics were written in poetry: the Epic of Gilgamesh (about four thousand years old), the Iliad (about three thousand years old), the Mahabharata (about two thousand years old), Beowulf (a mere thousand years old). Nowadays, however, we expect our epic fantasy in prose, often as a series of hefty volumes. But in 2013, I started writing a group of poems that grew into my own epic fantasy, The Sign of the Dragon, which tells the story of King Xau, chosen by a dragon to be king.

Why did I do this? It was almost an accident. I meant the opening poem to be a standalone piece. Except I was drawn to the boy in that poem. So I wrote another poem about him, and another, and another, until, three years later, I had over three hundred poems that together made up Xau's story.

I said that it was almost an accident, but writing the tale in individual poems suited me well. My youngest child was eight years old when I began. I wanted a writing project that would fit neatly into school days. Happily, I could usually complete a poem before it was time to pick up my children. Often I could get the laundry done as well. So writing my epic in verse was a major advantage for me. As for how it affected the tale itself…

Firstly, I should be clear that The Sign of the Dragon is not like the epics I mentioned earlier. It is mostly written in free verse, without rhyme or meter. And I think there's very little chance people will be studying it thousands of years from now!

Breaking the long story into poem-sized pieces gave me flexibility. I could switch from one character's perspective to another. I could zoom in on a particular battle, or a moment in that battle, or show that same moment from multiple perspectives. I could zoom out to an overview, or skip past months between one poem and the next. I could switch styles. (Yes, there are even some rhymed poems and haiku nestled in the book.)

Here, for instance, is a short poem about how news of an enemy invasion arrives, before the next poem switches to King Xau's thoughts as he rides off to war. This is the only time in the book that either Pigeon Six or the pigeon girl are mentioned.

Pigeon Six

(first published in Uppagus)

Pigeon Six: no rank,
no name beyond her number,
but she the soldier sent
with news of the invasion.

Pigeon Six: no honors,
her message all that mattered
to any but the pigeon-girl
who cleaned her empty perch.

A conventional novel can also present dozens of different perspectives or switch styles, but I think it takes more skill on the writer's part, as well as more concentration on the reader's part. The break between poems in itself signals a change, such as a shift in mood or a jump in time.

Breaking the story into poems also made it easier to write the tale out of sequence, and so allowed me to gradually work out the story's shape. For example, soon after I began, I wrote several poems about a demon, then later I went back and inserted a whole war before the demon ever appears.

One poetic device that I deliberately used was the epithet, following in the footsteps of Homer's wine-dark sea and swift-footed Achilles. So King Xau is sometimes called Horse Boy, and his first enemy is "red-haired, red-handed in war." I'm fond of repetition, plus it lets readers track characters without having to memorize every name. Some of the epithets are straightforward—"captain of Xau's guards" or "the young king"—yet can still be helpful. In hindsight, I wish I'd used epithets more extensively.

I loved being able to switch point of view! Unsurprisingly, we see Xau's perspective. And we also see from the perspective of his enemies, his bodyguards, his sister, his wife, his chief advisor, soldiers, a stable boy, a minstrel, a cleaning woman, a dragon, a monster, a cat. That was a great delight to me.

I think the switches in point of view had one other effect. They let me write about a character who was, or so my family warned me, too perfect. Xau spends most of the story doing what he believes is the right thing, no matter the personal cost to himself. This is exactly, precisely how I wanted Xau to be. Yet staying inside Xau's head all the time would make the story rather one-note. Shifting to his enemies, or seeing him from the point-of-view of one of his companions, hopefully adds flavor. I say "hopefully" because sometimes there's a gap between intentions and the end result. Of all the things I've written, The Sign of the Dragon is the one that means the most to me. But that doesn't guarantee readers will love it.

An ebook edition of The Sign of the Dragon appeared early in the pandemic, but it was only in 2025 that the first print edition was published. It's a chunky book, nearly six hundred pages, and contains forty wonderful illustrations by Gary McCluskey, two of which are shown here.

I will close with two short extracts showing very different points of view. First, one of Xau's enemies, and then the royal cat.

(From Vengeance, first published in Star*Line)

They think her nothing, think her beaten,
think the dungeon holds her in.

But hers the will which woke the dead,
hers the wrath, the wolves' wild tread.

They think that's her: defeated, lamed,
thrown to the floor, tethered, tamed;

think her trapped, her limbs bound tight,
think the blindfold stops her sight.

Permissible that the king pauses,
pushes away paper and brush,
bends down to stroke
behind her ears.

Later, she will inspect his desk.
Items may need to be rearranged.

Mary Soon Lee’s The Sign of the Dragon has a book page with blurb, reviews and more samples, and can be ordered from Amazon or other good bookstores.

Mary Soon Lee is also the author of three poems, “Alien Armada”, “Not for Sale, Used Asteroid, One Owner” and “What Heroines Read” in past issues of The Future Fire.

Sunday, 9 February 2025

New issue: 2025.72

“As climate movements, we’re often almost bullied into this belief that as soon as we talk about anything but emissions we’re losing sight of our actual issues. But as climate activists we need to stand up for democracy, we need to stand up for the truth.”

—Luisa Neubauer