Notes from the Laocoön Program – Phoenix Alexander

The orbital module fails to detach and we ignite in the full-mouth kiss of the planet’s atmosphere, spinning with a velocity that pushes us to the black brink of unconsciousness. G-force grinds us into seats molded for our forms. There is the view through the porthole in my periphery – of jittering flame and cartwheeling stars and the glowing edges of unfamiliar continents – and the interior of the capsule in front of me. My …

Another question for Phoenix Alexander

Q: What’s your favorite story?

A: I crave ‘quest’ storylines that change their protagonist’s worldviews over the course of the narrative. I need characters to somehow find hope, in whatever form that comes, in increasingly abject circumstances – even ones they would never have imagined themselves capable of surviving at the opening of a story.


Phoenix Alexander’s story “Notes from the Laocoön Program
in Metaphorosis Friday, 27 December 2019.
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More about Phoenix Alexander

Phoenix Alexander is the Science Fiction Collections Librarian at the University of Liverpool and curates the largest collection of SF in Europe. He is a queer, Greek Cypriot scholar and author of speculative fiction that is as much concerned with inner worlds as the spaces between stars.

phoenixalexanderauthor.com, @dracopoullos


Phoenix Alexander’s story “Notes from the Laocoön Program
in Metaphorosis Friday, 27 December 2019.
Subscribe now for e-mail updates!

It came from Phoenix Alexander

Phoenix Alexander’s story “One for the Wounded” was published in Metaphorosis on Friday, 10 May 2019. I was visiting family in Cyprus in the summer of 2018 and reading Alexander Chee’s The Queen of the Night in the lazy, languid, 110-degree days. The sensory richness of the novel – the heightened emotion and drama of the narrative, the piled-on details of cloth and scent and stone – inspired me to try to write something similarly …

One for the Wounded – Phoenix Alexander

“Minutes… they are the easiest to kill,” he whispered. His voice was thick with the drowsiness of spent passion; I thought he had fallen asleep, and felt grateful that he was staying awake with me a little longer. “You need something sharp… Cut their throats. Hit them on the head. Hard and accurate. Break their necks.” I remember thinking that it was an odd thing for him to talk about, this killing. So I lay …