Umbilical (Polestars 2) by Teika Marija Smits (book review).

The ‘Polestars’ books, of which this is the second, are anthology collections and are each by a different contemporary author. The first volume, entitled ‘Strange Attractions’, is authored by Jaine Fenn, and in my recent review, I was happy to recommend that book. This second volume, entitled ‘Umbilical’, is authored by Teika Marija Smits.

There are 21 stories included in this volume, as well as one short poem that starts off the book. The poem ‘Icarus Dreams’ may be autobiographical or it might reference the dedication to Smits’ father-in-law, but either way foreshadows Smits’ fondness for Greek myth.

There are, in fact, a couple of themes that run through the book, but sticking with the Greek myth for the time being gives us one of the best stories in this volume, that being ‘Minotaur/Mindtour’. This oddly named story is SF in Greek myth clothing and is one of the longer stories in the book. It features a hero named Theseus who plans to enter the Labyrinth, defeat the Minotaur, and dethrone the cruel King Arsitotos. Maybe with the help of Ria, the King’s stepdaughter, he will succeed, but all is not quite what it seems, although Theseus will discover the truth.

There are another couple of stories that measure up to ‘Minotaur/Mindtour’, both in concept and wordcount, in this volume. However, the majority of the stories are actually very short. Indeed, several are no longer than a page of text. The problem with most of these shorter stories is that there isn’t really a lot of actual story in them. Mostly, they set a scene and maybe suggest an issue that is overcome by a clever plan. Rarely is there any actual antagonism. It is almost as if Smits has written lots of first chapters to non-existent novels. Admittedly, there are a variety of first chapters, ranging from mythical archetypes to mythical SF. This has left me wanting, well, more. There are so many times the text gets interesting just before it ends, and the reader starts to get jaded before long. For example, ‘How to Honour a Beginning’ (using the English spelling of honour, naturally) tells of the beginning of the world, where the archetypal weird sisters crone, mother, and siren invite an alien known as The Green Man to steward the planet through many ages. This is a vibrant and promising beginning, and that is it. It ends there, although both the crone as Baba Yaga and The Green Man appear in other stories later in the book.

In fact, ‘The Green Man’ is one of the better stories. This deals with an environmental post-apocalypse and strikes an unusual note of hope. Baba Yaga turns up in ‘ATU334: The Wise’, which seems to deal with a vastly far-future encounter with a young lady who can pass Baba Yaga’s test due to implanted skill chips. Once again, we only get about a page of text. Darn it, there has to be more, surely?

All this potential comes with a couple of warnings, though. Firstly, Smits is prone to writing what I assume is body-horror dressed up as a comfortable feminine fable. For example, the title story ‘Umbilical’ details a fatally ill daughter and her relationship with her mother. When the daughter finds herself strangely growing an umbilical cord from her navel and the mother notices another growing from her vagina, it strikes me as kind of horrific, but the characters find it very comforting when they join up before the end. At least, that is how I see it, but I would appreciate a female reader’s perspective. Is this actually body horror, or is it something more deeply affecting?

Smits is prone to writing horror into her stories, and there are at least one or two other body horror types in the volume. However, the second warning is completely different and concerns only one of the stories in this volume, that being ‘The Case of the High Pavement Ghosts’. This is the seemingly obligatory Sherlock Holmes story. I am on record as being something of a Conan Doyle purist, and I often find that contemporary authors believe they are writing Holmes when, in actuality, they are writing what they want Holmes to be. Case in point: Smits’ story does feature both Holmes and Watson, but the main protagonists are Isadora Lampblack, cousin to Sherlock, and her redoubtable companion, Annabelle Fude. We quickly establish Isadora as the equal of her cousin, but no doubt better as she does not discount the supernatural. Annabelle has many characteristics that would drive Isadora to distraction if she were not so useful as a veritable medium of sensitivity. On this occasion, Holmes has sought to engage Isadora, as he believes the supernatural is at work, and so Isadora and Annabelle are soon on the case.

‘How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?’ is a pretty well-recognised quotation from Sherlock Holmes. In fact, in many of the original stories, seemingly supernatural events are shown to be quite rational and logical by Holmes’ investigation. Note that he does not immediately contact his seemingly wiser cousin to investigate! However, Arthur Conan Doyle was writing in the 1880s, when gender roles were very rigidly set, and if a modern female author wishes to write stories to address the balance for a modern audience, that is fine and good. Throwing in ghosts and goblins that are not rationally explainable stretches the format a bit. Sherlock Holmes, this is not.

With this exception, the longer stories are all generally good. The last story in the volume, ‘The November Room or Leaving the Labyrinth, is an enigmatic apex to end on. The protagonist, and maybe also the antagonist, is Indra, who is a sculptor working in marble. However, she finds herself in a marble labyrinth in which she most frequently visits rooms named for various months in which she relives important days from her past. Gradually, we build up a picture of her life, which might or might not explain why she is trapped. This story is an interesting metaphor for mental health, which seems most timely and relevant in 2024.

I want to recommend this book, as it holds so much potential that it almost hurts. So many times, I could not quite accept that Smits stopped writing just as it was getting good, but I am not certain I should recommend it based mostly on that sentiment. The back cover characterises this book as ‘Weird Fantasy’ and that really does not seem to cover it at all. The breadth of imagination is almost breathtaking. But Smits seems like a butterfly, flitting from concept to concept. I suppose that if this sounds fine to you, then I thoroughly recommend this book, but if, like me, you want to delve a bit deeper, then be cautioned, as you might find this frustrating.

Dave Corby

March 2024

(pub: NewCon Press, 2023. 227 page small enlarged paperback. Price: £13.99 (UK). ISBN: 978-1-914953-60-6)

check out website: www.newconpress.co.uk