I didn't love my baby when it was an egg, opalescent shell binding unthinking yolk, buried and growing inside of me.
Unlike the first three writers I’ve discussed in this column so far, Walton has not yet fallen completely off the radar within SF—she is still mentioned in at least some critical works,
This part always goes badly.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Naru Dames Sundar's "Broken-Winged Love."
