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Babylon 5 Rewatch: “The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father”
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Babylon 5 Rewatch: “The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father”

Column Babylon 5 Rewatch Babylon 5 Rewatch: “The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father” Bester and two Psi-Cop interns arrive on Babylon 5 to investigate a murder… By Keith R.A. DeCandido | Published on May 26, 2026 Credit: Warner Bros. Television Comment 0 Share New Share Credit: Warner Bros. Television “The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father”Written by J. Michael StaczynskiDirected by Stephen FurstSeason 5, Episode 13Production episode 514Original air date: April 15, 1998 It was the dawn of the third age… At Psi Corps HQ (which has apparently been reconstructed—or moved to a new location—since it was bombed), Bester meets with Director Drake, who introduces him to two new recruits, Lauren Ashley and Chen Hikaru, who are both big fans of Bester. Drake assigns them to shadow Bester. A telepath named Jonathan Harris is muttering to himself while reading a brochure for B5. He gets up and departs, leaving the corpse of his roommate behind. Bester is showing his two ducklings around, including observing a training exercise in blocking a psionic attack and then to an inspirational video/propaganda piece recorded by a happy telepath. The latter is interrupted by the body of Harris’ victim being found. Bester is summoned to the scene, as Harris was a student of his. Ashley stops by Bester’s quarters that night: she’s traumatized by seeing her first dead body, and asks Bester if it gets easier. He says it gets easier when it’s mundanes, but never when it’s fellow telepaths. Ashley also makes a pass, but Bester politely declines. Drake then shows up and gleefully informs Bester that they have intel that Harris has gone to Bester’s favorite place: Babylon 5. In addition, Drake informs Bester that Harris was trained in attack probes, a “mind shredder.” Bester, Chen, and Ashley head to B5, as they don’t trust Earth Alliance forces to handle this. On B5, Harris joins a card game in downbelow. He has no knowledge of the rules, but he wins in pretty short order. After departing the table, one of the losers approaches him and accuses him of cheating (which he did; using telepathy to win games is illegal). Harris’ personality changes and he uses his mind-shredding abilities to kill the guy. This is witnessed by a man named Bryce. Credit: Warner Bros. Television Bester learns that a Drazi gave Harris a fake identicard. He also learns the location of Harris’ quarters from a surface mind scan. While Bester goes to report this to security, Chen decides to show initiative and go to the quarters in question—where he finds a dead body. Allan isn’t thrilled to see that Bester’s arrival heralds corpses on the station, but Bester tartly points out that the body has been dead for two days, so he was killed before they arrived. Franklin’s autopsy indicates a manner of death that had to have been caused by a telepath, specifically a P12. However, Harris is only a P10, and a P10 can’t do that. Franklin suggests that maybe he was misdiagnosed as a P10, and Bester arrogantly explains that that doesn’t happen. There’s another body, and this one happened after Bester’s arrival: the other gambler. Telepaths aren’t allowed to gamble, or kill people, so the situation is really bad. Bester tells Ashley to keep an eye on security’s examination of the items in Harris’ quarters, while he has Chen go to downbelow to find other places where Harris might be gambling. Bester assumes (correctly, as it happens) that Harris is trying to get enough money to get passage off the station and far away from Earth and the Corps. Chen sees Harris in downbelow, but before he can contact Bester to tell him, Bryce kills him. The Babcom terminal Chen was about to use recorded the killing, but all they can see of the killer is his hand, and his skin is lighter than Harris’ and also tattooed—which means there’s another killer on the station. Security found handwritten notes in Harris’ quarters—written in more than one different style of handwriting—and also some recordings, in some of which he’s raving at his roommate and talking about Jonathan Harris in the third person. Bester realizes to his shock that Harris must have what is these days referred to as Dissociative Identity Disorder. One of his personalities must be a P12, which explains the murder that a P10 couldn’t have accomplished. They track Harris and Bryce and a firefight breaks out, but Bryce is subdued, and Harris kind of collapses on his own. Security releases both men to the Corps’ custody. In hyperspace, Bester allows Ashley the “honor” of shoving Bryce out the airlock, murdering him in cold blood. This is a rite of passage for new Psi Cops, spacing mundanes. Ashley continues to fangoober Bester as they head home. Credit: Warner Bros. Television The Corps is mother, the Corps is father. Apparently, Psi Corps keeps a giant mothership in hyperspace that nobody knows about. It’s not really clear what the ship’s purpose is, since the smaller ships that dock with it have to be able to enter a jumpgate and travel through it to get to and from the mothership, but whatever. No sex, please, we’re EarthForce. Ashley hits on Bester more than once, but Bester declines. Apparently his feelings for Carolyn are strong enough that he won’t cheat on her. (Though he did cheat on his wife with Carolyn.) Welcome aboard. Back from “Phoenix Rising” is Walter Koenig, making his final on-screen appearance as Bester. (Koenig was also set to guest star in an episode of Crusade, but the series was cancelled before the episode in question was filmed.) Dana Barron and Reggie Lee play Bester’s ducklings, Vince Riotta plays Bryce, and Dex Elliot Sanders plays Harris. And this week’s Robert Knepper moment is the welcome appearance of the great character actor Mike Genovese as Drake. While he has had many roles over the years, to me, Genovese will always be Lieutenant Garfield on The Flash series from 1990. Trivial matters. For the second time this season (after “Secrets of the Soul”), none of the five primary leads appear in the episode at all. The only opening-credits regulars who appear are from the “also starring” section of the opening credits: Richard Biggs and Jeff Conaway. This technically ties this episode with “Intersections in Real Time” for the one with the fewest opening-credits regulars, though in this case both those appearing have lines of dialogue, which Mira Furlan didn’t in the earlier episode. This is the third and final B5 episode directed by Vir actor Stephen Furst. Amusingly, all three episodes—“The Illusion of Truth,” “The Deconstruction of Falling Stars,” and this one—have the theme of alternate perspectives from a normal episode of B5. He will go on to direct two episodes of Crusade. Telepaths apparently can’t detect alternate personalities, which retroactively explains how Talia Winters’ embedded personality that came to the fore in “Divided Loyalties” went undetected by several different intense telepathic experiences she underwent (bonding with Ironheart in “Mind War,” being recorded by Abbut in “Deathwalker,” etc.). Viewers may have thought that the character named Jonathan Harris was a tribute to the actor who played Dr. Smith in Lost in Space alongside Bill Mumy, but it was, in fact, the prize in a B5 fan club raffle held at the 1997 World Science Fiction Convention in San Antonio. The echoes of all of our conversations. “You’re an optimist. Thank you—I’d almost forgotten what one of your kind looked like” —Bester to Franklin. Credit: Warner Bros. Television The name of the place is Babylon 5. “We don’t often see a sense of humor in Psi Corps.” After four-and-a-half years of being gleefully evil every time he showed up, Walter Koenig gets rewarded with a spotlight episode of his own. It’s always fun to get a different perspective in an episode, and when B5 does it, it generally works, and this episode does indeed generally work. The notion of a telepath with multiple personalities is an interesting one, though it’s pretty much just a plot device here. There’s a lot to explore that the episode doesn’t bother with, unfortunately—including nary a mention or indication that Psi Corps HQ was bombed just a couple of episodes ago… Dex Elliott Sanders does a nice job with Harris’ multiple modes. Bester’s ducklings are not quite as successful. Dana Barron is adequate as a Bester groupie, but not much more than that. Her eagerness is a little too underplayed, and Koenig winds up acting her off the screen every time they’re together. Reggie Lee is even less adequate, but at least he has the good graces to be knocked off. Though that points up the major problem with the episode. One of the things that we’ve been told about the Psi Corps from jump is that they care for their own, seen most recently in the conclusion to the Byron storyline. This entire episode is predicated on the Corps being the ones to take care of Harris rather than let EarthForce authorities or B5 security handle it. But then Chen is killed, and it barely even registers. There’s no outrage, no expressions of grief, no ramping up the hunt to take care of a mundane who dared kill a telepath. It’s just the next step in the mystery, a redshirt who’s killed but barely acknowledged after that. The way Barron plays Ashley, it feels like her only thoughts on the death of her colleague is that he’s out of the way so she can flirt more aggressively with Bester… It’s also a missed opportunity to have Bester on the station and deny us any interactions between him and either Sheridan or Garibaldi. Still, this is a nice little change-of-pace, showing how insular and awful the Corps is. Notably, Chen and Ashley’s demeanor is classic member-of-a-cult behavior, thus accomplishing in one episode what never came together in multiple episodes of Byron and his gaggle of rogue telepaths…. Next week: “Meditations on the Abyss.”[end-mark] The post <i>Babylon 5</i> Rewatch: “The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father” appeared first on Reactor.

Ey! Toy Story 5  Features Bad Bunny as Pizza & Alan Cumming as Evil Bullseye
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Ey! Toy Story 5 Features Bad Bunny as Pizza & Alan Cumming as Evil Bullseye

News Toy Story 5 Ey! Toy Story 5 Features Bad Bunny as Pizza & Alan Cumming as Evil Bullseye We also have a final Toy Story 5 trailer, where Jessie leads the fight against the screens By Vanessa Armstrong | Published on May 26, 2026 Credit: Disney/Pixar Comment 0 Share New Share Credit: Disney/Pixar The fifth Toy Story movie is almost upon us, and it’s set up to be a battle between the toys and a smartass Lilypad screen. The young human, Bonnie, still plays with Jessie, Forky, and her other toys, but she soon gets a newfangled device called a Lilypad (think of the LeapPad tablets circa 2011 in our timeline) that says that Bonnie is ALL HERS ALL OF THE TIME. Jessie, as the final trailer released today makes clear, isn’t standing for it. She leads the other toys in a battle against the screen for playtime with Bonnie. The toys she meets along the way are a mix of old characters and new… and today Pixar announced two additional guest cameos that fill me with joy. The first cameo is Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, who you may know as six-time Grammy Award winner Bad Bunny. He is lending his voice to the soon-to-be iconic character, Pizza with Sunglasses. What kind of character is PWS, as I’m calling him? His official description describes him as “effortlessly cool and mysterious” and a member of “a small but mighty community of forgotten toys that live in an abandoned backyard shed.” Ey! The second cameo is also delightful! Alan Cumming’s dulcet voice will also appear in the film as Evil Bullseye. Bullseye, Toy Story fans know, is Woody’s loyal, non-talking horse. Cumming’s evil version of the toy is reportedly quite loquacious, which we’ll see (and hear) during one scene of the film. We won’t have to wait long to see these cameos in the fifth film in the franchise: Tickets are now on sale for Toy Story 5, which premieres in theaters on June 19, 2026. While you wait, check out the final trailer below. [end-mark] The post Ey! <i>Toy Story 5</i> Features Bad Bunny as Pizza & Alan Cumming as Evil Bullseye appeared first on Reactor.

Martha Wells Book Club: Witch King
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Martha Wells Book Club: Witch King

Books Martha Wells Book Club Martha Wells Book Club: Witch King A story that asks what comes *after* the rebels win… By Alex Brown | Published on May 26, 2026 Comment 0 Share New Share After a short break, I’m ready to dive back into the Martha Wells Book Club. This month we’re reading the first book in the fantasy series the Rising World: Witch King. This was the first book of Wells’ I read that wasn’t in the Murderbot Diaries, and part of what inspired me to take on her back catalogue. I’d been planning on re-reading it, and the only thing that held me back was that I knew I would get to it eventually for this column. I am delighted to report that I enjoyed it even more the second time around.  When Kaiisteron, Prince of the Fourth House of the underearth, wakes, he feels strange. This isn’t the first time he has had a literal out-of-body experience. It’s not even the first time his spirit has jumped from one body to another. Whatever water-based curse kept his body in stasis has broken. After a fight with a couple bad guys that ends as quickly as it began, Kai is in yet another new body, this time an expositor. I’ve written about this before, but something I love about Martha Wells is how she drops readers into the deep end. She gives readers little backstory upfront, preferring to tease out information and cultural details as the story progresses. We start right in the thick of it and Wells doesn’t slow down. Witch King takes place in the present and past of the lands within what is now called the Rising World. This fledgling empire was born from the ashes of the ruins left from the arrival of the mysterious and brutal conquerors, the Hierarchs, and the bloody revolution that overthrew them. Kai is a demon now trapped on the surface world in the body of an expositor, a sort of witch harnessed by the Hierarchs. He’s joined by Ziede, a former teacher in a cloister that was razed by the Hierarchs who can manipulate air spirits. The book begins with Kai and Ziede as they search for Tahren (Ziede’s wife and a Fallen Immortal Marshall who betrayed the Hierarchs for the rebellion) and try to figure out who held Kai and Ziede hostage. They are joined by their new companions: Sanja, a child kidnapped by the expositor whose body Kai now possesses; Tenes, a young witch enslaved by said expositor; and Ramad, a personal vanguarder to a political leader. The answers they find offer a difficult path forward for not only the Rising World but our trio of powerful beings as well.  Their journey takes them along the eastern coastland of the Rising World and upriver to the Hierarchs’ former stronghold, the Summer Halls. We see that palace/fortress as a flooded ruin in the present and as a lavish display of power and stolen wealth in the past. The past also takes readers far to the west to the grasslands of the nomadic people Kai once called his own. To the south of the sea bordering the realm is another landmass, and it is from there the Hierarchs originated. (All this is helpfully detailed in the map at the front of the book.) Our motley crew are stalked by an enemy, likely the ones behind the plot to imprison Kai and Ziede and disappear Tahren. Unexpectedly, they locate Tahren’s brother, Dahin, who gives them the next clue in their quest. The past follows Kai from the battlefields on the Saredi grasslands to a demon cage in the Summer Halls. With the help of Ziede, Tahren, and Bashasa, a hostage prince from a conquered kingdom, Kai decides he will destroy the Hierarchs, come hell or high water. If he has to die so that others may escape, so be it. The past influences the present, and the present explains the past. Like many of Wells’ previous books, Witch King is a meditation on trauma, imperialism, colonization, forced assimilation, genocide, and the exploitation of labor and resources by those with too much power. It features a main character who blunders their way into found family as they work to take down their oppressor. It’s a little sadder than her other books, but hope still threads through. It is a story that asks what comes after the rebels win. It reminds me a little of Andor and the new Star Wars trilogy. In the sections set in the past, the theme is both Maarva Andor growling “fuck the empire” and Luthen Rael admitting “I burn my life to make a sunrise I know I’ll never see.” The present sections show what the new trilogy tried to get across. A rebellion may be built on hope, but a stable society is built on progressive ideals and a refusal to allow fascism any room to breathe. Kai, Ziede, and Tahren are in the situation they’re in because the Rising World didn’t quash those who sided with their oppressors when they had the chance. Now the future of everything they nearly died to bring forth is at risk.  As mentioned, the story jumps back and forth in time, with the historical sections prefaced with epigraphs from cultural documents written by denizens of the Rising World. At first, the excerpts feel random; one is from an Enalin chronicler baffled by how the Arike people “divide their people into only two genders, signaled by clothing styles,” while another discusses the Enalin political leadership structure. It is not until we get further into the book and the tidbits of details Wells scatters throughout conversations and experiences start to coalesce that we see how important these epigraphs are.  The gender piece comes up a couple of different ways. We see how each society interprets gender expression and identity differently. Some don’t distinguish gender through attire or physical form while others do. The trio come across soldiers who traditionally would have been women but now present as men, and Kai wonders if they are really men or were women who were forced to change gender against their will. Demons and the Saredi had an ancient agreement where demons would possess the bodies of dead Saredi in exchange for providing magic and children. Neither party cared about matching the gender between human host and demon spirit, and the biological characteristics of the human form have nothing to do with how their societies perceive gender. Which is how Kai, who uses he/him pronouns, ended up in the body of Enna, a young woman. As Kai-Enna, Kai was always referred to as “he.” Another female demon is in the body of an old man, and she is always referred to as “she.” Gender isn’t the only way queerness appears in this book. As Kai-Enna and later in the body of human and expositor men, Kai is attracted to men. We never see any desire for anyone using she/her pronouns. Ziede and Tahren are women who are married to each other. Several characters use they/them pronouns, and any person who Kai cannot immediately identify their gender he refers to then in a neutral way, such as “the person.” Queerness as a revolutionary identity doesn’t exist in the Rising World like it does in ours. We don’t see queerphobia or different identities legislated against. People are who they are. As a queer person, I find this so refreshing in speculative fiction. I don’t mind reading books with bigotry in them, especially if the characters are fighting against it. Sometimes I want to feel empowered and revitalized, like I know I can keep fighting in the real world after reading about fictional characters doing the same. However, sometimes I’d rather read about characters who don’t have to fight to be their true selves. Sometimes I want to see a world where queerness exists not as an identity or as a contrast to compulsory cisalloheterosexuality but as something that just is.  Queerness is so prevalent and well done in Witch King and the Murderbot Diaries that I was disappointed that Wells didn’t include it in her earlier books (or didn’t include it to the same extent). Not surprising, given the state of speculative fiction in the ’90s and first part of the 21st century, but disappointing nonetheless. I was always frustrated by speculative authors who could imagine whole new worlds full of strange cultures and fascinating characters but couldn’t conceive of two dudes kissing. I’m so glad Wells has made her more recent books diverse in a variety of ways, including disability. Tenes is mute and uses sign language (here called Witchspeak) to communicate. Other non-disabled people also use it and no one has anything negative to say about her disability; in the Rising World, queerphobia isn’t the only -phobia or -ism to not exist.  Since its release in 2023, I’ve read plenty of reviews of Witch King. I was effusive in mine for Reactor, but some others were more lukewarm, and for reasons I personally find unconvincing. All of the things other reviewers complained of—lots of cultural and societal details, readers not having a full understanding of how the Rising World or its magical inhabitants function by the end of the book, it not being as humorous or action-packed as the Murderbot Diaries, a large cast, the flashbacks, Wells offering lots of questions but few answers—are things I loved. They are also things that appear in all of her books, to some extent. The Ile-Rien series is the only series left I haven’t read, yet of the rest of her fantasy books, Witch King is par for the course. I’d put it closer in tone and style to her standalones City of Bones and Wheel of the Infinite. To each their own, but I loved Witch King so much. I’d put it as my second favorite of the books of hers I’ve read so far.  We’re staying in the Rising World for next month’s book, Queen Demon. I haven’t read it yet, since I’ve been saving it for this column. The anticipation is killing me![end-mark] Buy the Book Queen Demon Martha Wells Buy Book Queen Demon Martha Wells Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget The post Martha Wells Book Club: <i>Witch King</i> appeared first on Reactor.

Life Among the Giant Bugs: The Forgotten Planet by Murray Leinster
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Life Among the Giant Bugs: The Forgotten Planet by Murray Leinster

Books Front Lines and Frontiers Life Among the Giant Bugs: The Forgotten Planet by Murray Leinster Giant spiders! Deadly fungus and killer spores! A massive ant army! This book has it all. By Alan Brown | Published on May 26, 2026 Comment 0 Share New Share In this bi-weekly series reviewing classic science fiction and fantasy books, Alan Brown looks at the front lines and frontiers of the field; books about soldiers and spacers, scientists and engineers, explorers and adventurers. Stories full of what Shakespeare used to refer to as “alarums and excursions”: battles, chases, clashes, and the stuff of excitement. One of the joys of this column is getting to explore used bookstores and discover old classics that I missed in my youth. A few weeks ago, I discovered a good one: The Forgotten Planet, by one of my favorite all-time science fiction authors, Murray Leinster. To this day, I remain amazed that one man could have had so many ideas relating to so many different fields, and over a fifty-year career produced classic tales about the earliest days of space travel, first contact with aliens, exploration of hostile environments, and even managed to make tales about a roving public health doctor interesting. This book is made up of three parts, the first two parts, “The Mad Planet” and “The Red Dust,” having appeared in Amazing Stories in the 1920s (different sources list different dates), and the third part, “Nightmare Planet,” published in 1953, with the combined novel coming out the following year. The copy I used for this review is a Carroll and Graf paperback from their Masters of Science Fiction series, printed in 1990. The book is a gripping tale of descendants of the crew of a wrecked spaceship struggling to survive on a planet only partially seeded with Earth life, where toxic plants and giant arthropods pose a constant threat. About the Author Murray Leinster was the pen name of William Fitzgerald Jenkins (1896-1975), a leading American science fiction writer active from World War I into the 1960s, who wrote groundbreaking stories in a wide range of sub-genres, including first contact, time travel, alternate history, and medical SF. I previously reviewed the collection First Contacts: The Essential Murray Leinster, the collection Med Ship, three books on humanity’s initial steps into space (Space Platform and Space Tug, reviewed together, and City on the Moon), and two books about Time Tunnels, one an original, and one tied to the TV show—you can find that review here. You can access some of Leinster’s works to read for free on Project Gutenberg, including The Forgotten Planet. Problematic Attitudes Toward “Savagery” One issue I had with The Forgotten Planet was with Leinster’s depiction of his human characters, and particularly his use of the word “savages” to describe them. That term, savage, has been used for centuries by people to describe those who are seen as less civilized or more primitive than themselves. The idea that civilized people are innately superior to those in more primitive conditions was used as an excuse for some of the worst excesses of colonization, oppression, and even genocide (you can find a Wikipedia article on the topic here). While the protagonist, Burl, is shown as being a bit cleverer than his fellow tribespeople, they are depicted in a distinctly unflattering manner. Their goals are basic and described as being limited to filling their stomachs, preserving their lives, and perpetuating their species. They have no weapons, and few tools, using only rocks to crush things and the rough edge of giant grasshopper legs to saw things. They have lost the ability to make fire. They have no ambition or imagination, are timid and selfish, and react instead of thinking strategically. I myself can’t believe that, in such a hostile environment, human abilities and drives would have fallen so far. I would argue that with all the challenges they faced, the survivors of the original crash and their offspring would have become even more clever and creative in facing the constant threats of the planet, not sunken into apathetic lethargy. What I do see that would have threatened their survival was the danger of inbreeding. The crew of a spaceship would probably not have a population large enough to ensure sufficient genetic diversity, and prevent disorders and recessive traits. That issue, more than any loss of ambition and creativity, would have threatened the long-term survival of the humans. The Forgotten Planet The prologue was my favorite part of the book, tracing humanity’s move out into the stars and encountering many habitable worlds, but worlds devoid of life (I’m not convinced that worlds without life would conveniently have an environment so well suited to it, as there is a synergistic relationship between life and the environment, but it is a reasonable starting premise). Leinster describes how humanity forms an Ecological Preparation Service dedicated to bringing life to these barren worlds via a centuries-long program of visits by seed ships. The first ships would bring microbes, bacteria, spores, and plankton. The next would bring both aquatic and land plants, a variety of fish for the seas, and insect life for the land. The species were limited to primitive animals that required no parental care upon hatching. But before this as-yet unnamed planet could receive additional seed ships, a file card was lost (a rather amusing anachronism to contemplate). So, there were no higher forms of life seeded, and the primitive plants and arthropods evolved to fill environmental niches that birds, reptiles, and mammals fill on Earth. The preface tells us that into this stunted environment a human ship fell, the starship Icarus, (appropriately named after the legendary wing-maker who flew too close to the sun and fell to his death). And so, our story opens with survivors of that ill-fated vessel struggling in a world filled with familiar creatures that had evolved into strange and dangerous forms. The protagonist, Burl, is a member of a small tribe with only a few strong adult members, with the majority being children or the elderly, too weak to contribute much. The lowlands of the world are constantly shrouded with clouds, and neither Burl nor anyone from his tribe has ever seen the sun. The flora is primarily made up of fungus, giant mushrooms, toadstools, and cabbages. There are fish in the waters, but only insects and other arthropods on land, many which have evolved to large sizes. Butterflies and moths have yards-wide wings, and what garments the tribe have are cut from those wings. Burl has an idea, and we meet him as he scavenges the horn from the corpse of a giant beetle, with the idea he can use it the way the beetle did, to kill prey. There is a woman near his age in the tribe, Saya, and he has a vague idea that he can impress her by gathering more food than one person can eat. Burl decides to stab a fish, and stands on a giant fungus shelf near a river. He gets his fish, but the fungus breaks off, and he is soon being transported aboard the floating fungus on an inadvertent voyage of discovery, far from his tribe. Burl encounters a giant spider, and then another, and only survives because they battle each other. He flees from giant ants, and being alone, has to devise new ways to survive. He uses a dismembered beetle’s leg as a club. A forest fire breaks out, and Burl flees the flames along with the other creatures. He runs from an army of ants, each big enough to be a threat on its own, and unstoppable in large numbers. He finds a wounded moth, decks himself out with clothes torn from its wings, and finds a longer fragment of an insect shell to use as a spear. Emboldened by his successes, he kills a spider. When he finds his tribe again, they look at Burl with new-found respect. The middle of the book is filled with Burl’s adventures as the leader of his tribe as they learn not just to survive, but to dominate their environment to an extent they previously did not think possible. There are setbacks, but they make steady progress until a new threat arises. There is a new kind of puffball fungus moving into their region, which releases red spores that contain deadly poisons. So, the tribe must begin a long journey, moving away from concentrations of the red puffballs to find a new and safer home. That home ends up being a plateau that rises above the constant mists of the lowlands, allowing them to finally see the sun, sky, and stars. The flora and fauna on the plateau are not nearly as hostile as those that populate the teeming lowlands they came from. And happily, they find another type of creature on the plateau, an old friend of humanity. The book ends on an even more positive note, as they are rediscovered by a visiting starship, and are able to rejoin humanity. Their planet becomes not only the source of many unique commodities for interstellar trade, but also a hunting ground for those rich enough to afford the trip. Leinster does a great job imagining and evoking this strange world. In an Author’s Note at the end of the book, he cites the many sources he used in researching arthropod and insect life, and that research pays off in the realism of the many action scenes in the book. You might quibble about how quickly arthropods evolved to such large sizes, and the plausibility of invertebrates becoming so large, but the book would be much less exciting if they stayed their normal size. In the older parts of the book, Leinster makes the decision not to use dialogue. This makes the story feel a bit stilted and expository, but at least we are saved from what might have been the phonetically spelled pidgin that authors from that era put in the mouths of their primitive characters. Especially in the earlier sections, the tone of the book is very dark, and even depressing. While authors tend to create fiction by developing characters and then throwing problems at them, in this case Leinster almost goes too far. I began to dislike the book in the middle, but pushed ahead and was rewarded with a lighter tone toward the ending, as the tribe became more successful and found their way to less threatening environments. Final Thoughts I remain constantly amazed at the scope of Murray Leinster’s imagination. While his contemporaries early in his career were pumping out lurid adventure stories with preposterous backdrops, he was imagining a massive, complex program to seed other planets, and diving deep into research on insects and other arthropods to give his imaginary world a grounding in real science. And while The Forgotten Planet has its problems with outdated tropes and a depressing tone early on, it is a gripping tale of survival that keeps the reader turning pages. Now, I’d enjoy hearing from you. That includes any thoughts you have on The Forgotten Planet, any thoughts on Murray Leinster and his other works, and any recommendations for other science fiction narratives that use insects as antagonists.[end-mark] The post Life Among the Giant Bugs: <i>The Forgotten Planet</i> by Murray Leinster appeared first on Reactor.

The Chosen of Aslan: Narnia’s Talking Animals
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The Chosen of Aslan: Narnia’s Talking Animals

Books SFF Bestiary The Chosen of Aslan: Narnia’s Talking Animals Deep in a wardrobe, four English children meet a large cast of mythological creatures and talking animals… By Judith Tarr | Published on May 26, 2026 The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe illustration by Pauline Baynes Comment 0 Share New Share The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe illustration by Pauline Baynes I came to Narnia as an adult. The Inkling of my childhood was Tolkien. In college I read Charles Williams—he’s the least known now, but in some ways the most complex and beautifully weird of all. With those two behind me, I found C.S. Lewis’ series, explicitly written for children and also explicit in its allegorical underpinnings, rather too simplistic to be satisfying. And yet it stayed with me. It’s derivative, its voice is often condescending, and there is the Problem of Susan. Still. It has its own power. Much of that is borrowed, but like Lewis (and Tolkien) I am a medievalist. In the Middle Ages, originality was not a virtue. The real genius was the author who, in a famous image, stood tall on the shoulders of the giants who came before. The greater the homage, the stronger the work. Lewis’ Talking Animals owe a great deal to everything from the classical and medieval beast fable to The Wind in the Willows. They have, for him, a very specific purpose. In 1953, halfway through the Narnia series, he published a poem titled “Impenitence,” in which he said, Why! they all cry out to be used as symbols,Masks for Man, cartoons, parodies by Nature       Formed to reveal us Each to each, not fiercely but in her gentlestVein of household laughter. And he is proud of it. He wants to do it. He doesn’t care what the critics say. Or so he says. It’s hard to be an academic who also writes fiction, especially fantasy fiction, and particularly if it’s for children. One risks being regarded as Not Serious. Over seventy years later, Lewis’ academic works aren’t nearly as beloved, or even known, as these books he wrote for children. They speak to something deep in us. Literally, in the case of his Talking Animals. The original beginning of the series, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (1950), introduces us to the world inside Uncle Digory’s wardrobe. It’s a world under siege, locked in ice and snow—forever winter, but never Christmas. Four children from our world, who have been sent away to the country in the middle of a terrible war, are called to save that world, and restore it to its green and pleasant self. They do this with the help of a large cast of mythological creatures and Talking Animals. Who those animals are, where they come from, how they got there, wouldn’t be made clear to readers for a few years. Other volumes would be published first, with the exception of The Last Battle, which appeared in 1956, though it was completed before the origin story, The Magician’s Nephew (1955). There at last, Lewis spelled out exactly how Narnia was created, where the White Witch came from, and what the Talking Animals were and why. Narnia’s animals for the most part are the same as ours—from the viewpoint of an Englishman born at the beginning of the twentieth century. They’re a lower order of creation than humans, without speech or understanding. But some of them have been lifted up by Narnia’s creator, who himself takes the form of a huge Lion. When Aslan sings the dark and empty world into existence, he selects a pair from a number of species. The largest ones, such as elephants, he sizes down somewhat. The smaller ones—mice, rabbits, beavers, badgers—he sizes up, sometimes considerably. Hence, the mighty and indomitable Reepicheep, who is many times the size of an ordinary mouse. These animals are his chosen. He grants them the power of speech and human levels of discernment. Like the children of Adam, which is what Aslan calls humans, they have a higher purpose. They ally with humans to serve and protect their world. This gift is not irrevocable. If they turn to evil, they lose the gift. They return to their original state, without speech or understanding. Loss of speech is a terrible thing in Narnia. It harks back to a profound Christian concept: In the beginning was the Word. Which, in the case of Narnia, was sung. It’s song that brings the world into existence, sung by the greatest of all the Talking Beasts, the creator himself, Aslan the Lion. In The Last Battle, when Aslan submits himself to the final sacrifice, he’s robbed of all his dignity and strength and power. And, inevitably, his ability to speak. Speech is fundamental, and to lose it is in some ways worse than death. I would rather live in Middle-earth than in Narnia. It’s so much bigger and deeper and higher. But the longer I live with Lewis’ series, the more it grows on me. It stays in my memory, and shows me new faces of itself with each rereading. I can see why it’s survived as long as it has, and been loved so much. Greta Gerwig is working now on a film of The Magician’s Nephew, to be released next year—and from what I can gather, it’s the first of the full series, released in chronological rather than publication order. I’ll be there for it. I am so looking forward to the Creation of Narnia, the transformation of the cart horse into the glorious Fledge, and I hope she gives us the spectacle of Jadis, all seven feet of her, roaring down a London street on the roof of a hansom cab. That alone will be worth the price of admission.[end-mark] The post The Chosen of Aslan: Narnia’s Talking Animals appeared first on Reactor.