Beyond the Glittering World: An Anthology of Indigenous Feminisms and Futurisms
Stacie Shannon Denetsosie, Kinsale Drake, and Darcie Little Badger, eds.
Trade Paperback/Ebook
ISBN: 979-8890920300
Torrey House, November 2025, 240 pgs

I’m getting this review out into the world a bit late, but it’s okay, since this is a great book; moreover, it’s a book many of you probably haven’t heard about yet. I don’t think I’d heard of Torrey House Press until September, when I stumbled onto this book fairly randomly on social media. Their site says they are “committed to seeking writers of color and other marginalized communities whose work engages deeply with place and expands and challenges conversations on environmental and social justice.” This commitment is consistent with the work published in Beyond the Glittering World. Looking through the other publications on their site, it seems that some of their other books potentially bear certain resemblances to this one, such as Stacie Shannon Denetsosie’s collection The Missing Morningstar and Other Stories, but it looks like this anthology is mostly different from what Torrey House has done before. I do hope they will publish more like this one! I’ll give you a taste of some of the fiction on offer and save the rest for your discovery.

“Dilasulo Walks” by A.J. Eversole features objects in a museum coming to life. This is a well-trod topic, but here the narrative is deeply moving and carries subtleties that most versions of this idea usually don’t quite achieve. Dilasulo is a pair of moccasins who has attained sentience through “cultivation”: the gathering of energy from the focus of onlookers, essentially. A new display in the museum has Dilasulo curious, which prompts conversations among a few of the sentient objects. Through interactions and introspection (accomplished with perfect timing over a short span of pages), the narrative explores themes such as the irony of objects created for practical purposes being trapped behind glass; the dislocation of things that should belong to a group being nearly inaccessible to that group, and much more. In popular culture, Native populations are often described as “gone” or “wiped out,” effectively erasing the existence of actual, living Native individuals and communities; or popular culture often portrays them in limited and stereotypical ways. Here, the narrative thread gently reminds readers, “actually, Native people are still here . . .” and suggests perhaps that Native culture is not something that belongs behind glass. This, for me, also has broader implications about the concept of being an onlooker, gazing at a community as if they are objects on display. The story seems deceptively simple, but it says so many things in a soft, but nonetheless effective and brilliant, way.

Not all the entries are speculative,* such as “The Stolen Drawing” by Conley Lyons, which tells of Josephine Morningstar and her missing fishbowl art piece. Josephine is twelve and spent three weeks on the best drawing she’d ever done. But before it can be turned in and subsequently posted in the school art class display, the drawing goes missing. Josephine and her friends take on trying to figure out what happened and why. The story is well-told and has a light-hearted touch, focusing primarily on the relationships and subtle transitions that happen in the school environment, as well as, to some degree, family. There are flourishes that conscientious readers will catch, things that speak to social disparities, for example, which feel like honest depictions of life more than necessarily being about messaging. Whether or not intended, I read another layer here about the connection between the nature of the art assignment and the story itself, but I’ll leave that as a suggestion for individual readers to explore, something folks can ponder after reading the piece, if they like. Regardless, even though this is fiction, there is a strong sense of human truth that makes this story shine. Combined with the narrative style (and the author’s choices in terms of how the piece ends), this entry is utterly readable and enjoyable.

“Signal from Noise” by Andrea L. Rogers is reminiscent of stories where plot is not really the point, where the piece is mostly a presentation of a few thoughts, often rendered as dialogue between characters about a topic. Some popular versions of this approach can be seen on Love, Death, and Robots, in animated renditions of John Scalzi stories, where robots walk around ruins and discuss how, as a civilization, they ended up where they are. With “Signal from Noise,” Rogers gives us a young woman named Maggie, who is brought by her mother to speak with a psychiatrist, at the recommendation of the school counselor; well, not just a “recommendation” but under threat of calling child protective services. Maggie has ideas about the relationship between humans and animals, and these ideas are the main body of the discussion between the two characters. Maggie’s thoughts, in some ways, leave the psychiatrist concerned, to the point of suggesting that Maggie may be experiencing hallucinations. Similar to the Scalzi-based animated pieces, the entry feels, in some ways, more like the author speaking to the audience than other fiction modalities. That said, the sense of immersion in the narrative moment Rogers creates, for me, is quite strong. I believe this is due to the grounding of narrative in real-life elements, such as the fleeting thoughts Maggie has about systemic inequity and historic oppression. Even the initial concepts of the counselor threatening child protective services should be thought-provoking, setting up for nuances throughout which speak to the ways institutional “services” deal with anyone they may see as “different,” especially marginalized individuals of various kinds. Later, the psychiatrist suggests antipsychotics and installing Maggie in a facility, despite a) no real depth of understanding; b) in all likelihood having never interacted with Native individuals before; and c) probably having little to no grasp of social or historical contexts of the issues facing Native communities. Which is to say, the piece is working on more levels than most I’ve read that are ostensibly taking a similar narrative approach. The ideas Maggie shares in conversation are not without their own merit on their own. Plus, the ending is well-played, hinting at the nature of the larger part of the story but leaving it arguable and somewhat open to interpretation. All of this makes the piece even more interesting and satisfying than most I’ve read of similar narrative modality.

In “Sandstone Ballad,” by Danielle Shandiin Emerson, Roadside returns to the site where she and her siblings had scattered their mom’s ashes years earlier (“between the two sister mesas”), only to find a mysterious sandstone statue of their mom standing in that very same place. Roadside can’t be sure, but she may hear humming in the trees, which is strangely reminiscent of the way her mother used to sing. This begins a poignant and beautiful meditation on the changes that death brings, on family and secrets, and many other things. While perhaps the bulk of the narrative recalls the past, including their mother’s illness and death, the present moments reflect the differences in the siblings, speaking deeply to the complexities of family. The story stays away from simplistic or overly easy narrative “solutions.” Instead, it casts the story’s moments as part of the continuum of life, wherein life is a series of transformations and relationships, and perhaps suggests that our relationships with those who have died continue to thrum, even if the nature of the relationship has changed considerably.

Stacie Shannon Denetsosie’s “No Wrong Roads Home” is another poignant story, set during a near-future epidemic that combines elements of the COVID pandemic with elements of a violence-inducing virus narrative. Kiana is navigating life as a college student, as well as dealing with a recent death and the complications of isolation. Then Taro comes knocking on the window, asking if Kiana wants to go skating. This leads to a journey for basic supplies, but journeys in great stories have a way of being times for both reflection and transformation. Denetsosie’s narrative voice really drives the read, embodying a straightforward yet captivating kind of storytelling. The tale is peppered with insights and observations that feel important, even as Denetsosie often simply presents a moment or an idea and allows the reader to find their way to the truths therein. For me, the piece is about colonization and both careless and deliberate destruction. It does a great job of being about those things by focusing on the people whom said destruction affects. Along with this, for me, the story is about survival. At the same time, it is about ordinary life, relationships, family, and growth. It is perhaps a celebration of the ordinary achieved by casting ordinary moments in the light of the extraordinary. Perhaps this story also recognizes that even during an apocalypse, those ordinary transformations of life still carry on.

The editors have put together a strong assortment of stories. Each author brings their own perspective and concerns, as well as their own style. Short fiction readers will love the journeys the editors have in store. The book also features a lot of poetry, such as “Kahilinā’i” by Ha’åni Lucia Falo San Nicolas and “Alfabet’zate Otro Mundo: Reverse Abecedarian Broke Open” by Ayling Dominguez. All told, this is another amazing book that deserves far more attention than it’s getting. Go get your copy and give it some love!

*I’d like to note that this is my own judgment, and it’s possible that I am mistaken or missing something. It’s also possible that this is a question of perspective or even semantics. This is still a fantastic story, definitely worth reading!