Songbird is an amazing story (I almost typed song) with its entirety in the cadence in the echoes of an old man’s thoughts. While not in any way a traditional form, it has power, and a message, and heart.

My favourite story, which I remember seeing in slush on the Baen Bar, comes from the “Introducing New Authors” slot that’s reserved for up-and-coming authors who haven’t previously broken into professional markets. Jeremiah Sturgill’s “Songbird” is a nicely understated story of a vasya, a singer of the sounds of nature, and a boy who seeks to be his apprentice.

More of a concept and idea story than an action or adventure story, “Songbird” feels almost like poetry that’s slipped over into prose form. The characterization was very nice, the song concepts were lovely, the imagery was clean and fresh. I can heartily recommend this story.

I really liked this story. It was a song in itself.

A very passive but gentle, at times even beautiful, narrative. Sturgill never gives into temptation to try and make this story more than it needs to be, uses no gimmicks to try and liven up the tale, but settles for a quiet, simplistic read that is nevertheless somehow captivating.

This is one of the most beautiful and poetic pieces in the issue. Even though the story is told from a more bitter and cynical perspective, at the end, one’s love for life and the heralding of music and sound in everything we do. A gorgeous work.

The protagonist is a rather pompous prick and I lose interest in him almost from the beginning. Only the faint hope of what may happen to the second character kept me reading. A quarter of the way into the story, this is my only reason for reading further, the only question the tale teases me with. I’m as tired of the protagonist and his thoughts as he unceasingly claims to be.