“The Speculative Fiction Indie Novella Championship (SFINCS, pronounced “sphinx”) is a yearly competition to recognize, honor, and celebrate the talent and creativity present in the indie community. We are a sister competition to both SPFBO and SPSFC, and we highlight greatness in the novella format in all areas of speculative fiction (fantasy, science fiction, horror, etc.).” – From the official SFINCS website.
Note: The following review contains only my personal thoughts as a judge and does not reflect the views of the team as a whole.
REVIEW
Voice!
Bailey Saxon’s Sapphic, (re)coming-of-age fantasy is packed with it. Song of the Dryads is a bit of an unusual book, the exact feel of it difficult to pin down. At once combining the zip and banter of a Critical Role cartoon with a anime-esque cheekiness, it knows not to take itself too seriously while simultaneously wrestling with some deep and personal themes related to gender and selfhood. These elements are combined with an interest in monster and creature design, and a heartwarming energy that put me in mind of the work of Becky Chambers. Readers interested in gentle stories of found family in which conflict tends to be smaller-scale and interpersonal will enjoy this one best. While occasionally I longed for a little more focus, clarity, and structure from the narrative, the exuberance of the voice and the heartfelt quality of the protagonist’s story of personal growth demonstrate Saxon’s raw talent.
The protagonist of Song of the Dryads is a transfemme monster hunter named Bianca, who’s wrestling with her sense of self in the small fantasy community. That community includes a jumble of awkward acquaintances (straight cis women who see her not for who she is, but who they want her to be; misogynistic male bounty hunters; and a few close friends and family who she’s nonetheless still nervous around). When a monster hunt goes wrong, however, Bianca’s “death” becomes an opportunity for rebirth: she’s transported to the world of the dryads, where she’s finally able to claim the body and identity she was ashamed to and where she befriends a caring and supportive found family of monsters. A subplot in the novella involves a second (and third) POV and focuses on Bianca’s nonbinary sister, who becomes confused when Bianca doesn’t return from her latest mission.
Song of the Dryads is less a plot-focused novella than one concerned with personal development and character growth. While the world Saxon has crafted has everything you’d anticipate from an adventure fantasy in terms of its set pieces, its heart lies with Bianca herself and her journey of gender affirmation and healing. The modern slang and voice suit both the personal nature of Bianca’s narration, as well as the anime-esque tone of the work extremely well, and I could easily imagine Song‘s cast popping up in an adult cartoon one day. Sometimes, so-called anachronistic tones can feel jarring in a fantasy context, depending on what an author is going for, but here they felt pitch-perfect for the kind of story Saxon is invested in. Although the genres couldn’t be more different in some ways, the style of the narration and the energy of Bianca’s voice put me most in mind of the narrator of horror giant Stephen Graham Jones’s My Heart is a Chainsaw. The prose is almost stream-of-consciousness at times, and Saxon commits fully to Bianca’s voice. Contemporary queer readers will recognize many of the allusions to online queer culture that Saxon makes, and the whole work replicates the feel of being part of a queer Discord, with friends uplifting and affirming one another, while also teasing and challenging.
“You are worthy, you have been since the moment you were born.”
Where Song is perhaps a little weaker is in its editing. While the voice is exceptional and the supporting cast charming and fun, at a line level there’s some ironing out that could make the reading process a little smoother. I did find that, in the whirlwind of character interactions, whacky delight, and Bianca’s own careering thoughts, there were sometimes clarity and focus issues. So much is happening at such a breakneck speed that sometimes it was challenging to know which elements of the story were the ones the reader ought to pay the most attention to, and while the tumble from thought-to-thought-to-thought did a lot to characterize Bianca, sometimes the feel of being part of an online conversation could be overwhelming in the way that . . . well . . . online conversations and forums genuinely are! All that said, it’s very clear Saxon is a talent, and there were some beautiful turns of phrase that stood out to me as I read. In particular, in the novella’s second-to-last chapter, I found myself particularly captivated by Bianca’s reflections on herself and her experiences. The voice really does carry the piece, and my impression is that with just a bit more added plot, structure, and some minor trimming to prioritize the heart of the story’s themes, this one will really sing. Something simple, like adding a few more chapters from the sister’s perspective, might have helped bring slightly more structure to the piece, without taking away from the depth of Bianca’s POV.
“I never would’ve heard the sweet song of their voice if I had stayed flesh, so I will revel in the beauty of the forest and decide to give whatever pieces of myself I can as thanks.”
Perhaps the most important element of Song is its warmth and its ability to affirm. Today particularly, with trans and marginalized rights under attack in the UK, US, and elsewhere, communities wherein trans, nonbinary, and gender diverse people are welcomed, celebrated, and encouraged to present as their true selves are essential to our survival. This is especially the case for trans women of colour. Saxon’s beautiful representation of a wholesome queer community expresses the importance of those environments, and I’d recommend Song to community-members in need of hope. Whether you already belong to a supportive network of fellow trans people and allies, or are currently feeling alone, Song is a lovely opportunity to reflect on how we can support one another, and a reassurance that we’re not alone. Small, whimsical details, such as a chapter entitled, “Gay Force Winds,” brought a smile to my face, and helped inject a sense of fun that counterbalances an interest in Bianca’s struggles with identity.
I recommend Song of the Dryads to queer readers, cozy and slice-of-life fans, readers who love a little of an anime influence, and even to litRPG fans in search of something very different (Song isn’t a litRPG, but elements of Bianca’s discovery of her new powers and form put me in mind of a video game, or perhaps a progression fantasy). There’s a huge amount of personality in this one.
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