Joyce Chng lives in Singapore. Their speculative fiction has appeared in The Apex Book of World SF II, We See A Different Frontier, Cranky Ladies of History, and Accessing The Future. Joyce also co-edited THE SEA IS OURS: Tales of Steampunk Southeast Asia with Jaymee Goh. Their novels span across wolf clans (Starfang: Rise of the Clan), vineyards (Water into Wine) and swordmaking forges (Fire Heart and Cold Steel) respectively. Joyce also wrangles fiction and article editing at Strange Horizons. Alter-ego J. Damask writes about werewolves in Singapore. Star Pattern Traveller, a novella about first contact, was published in February 2024. Their most recent work, Sailing the Golden Chersonese, is now available from Queen of Swords Press.
Joyce Chng lives in Singapore. Their speculative fiction has appeared in The Apex Book of World SF II, We See A Different Frontier, Cranky Ladies of History, and Accessing The Future. Joyce also co-edited THE SEA IS OURS: Tales of Steampunk Southeast Asia with Jaymee Goh. Their novels span across wolf clans (Starfang: Rise of the Clan), vineyards (Water into Wine) and swordmaking forges (Fire Heart and Cold Steel) respectively. Joyce also wrangles fiction and article editing at Strange Horizons. Alter-ego J. Damask writes about werewolves in Singapore. Star Pattern Traveller, a novella about first contact, was published in February 2024. Their most recent work, Sailing the Golden Chersonese, is now available from Queen of Swords Press.
A stunning, comprehensive collection of short stories, poetry, recollections, and drawings, by Singaporean writer Joyce Chng.
Cover Art by Mr. Amorn Setthitorn
A single author collection featuring poetry and prose, art and autobiography, in a unique blend from a rising star of SE Asian SF and F. – Catherine Lundoff and Melissa Scott
"Wolf's Path demonstrates why Joyce Chng is one of the most ambitious and engaging SFF writers today. It's an excellent introduction to her work that's sure to delight you with its evocative prose and compelling ideas long after you've put it down!"
– Bryan Thao Worra, author of American Laodyssey"Joyce Chng's Wolf's Path is a journey. A trek not merely through the author's chronological career trajectory but across time, space, and genre. Chng is a masterful storyteller, weaving together the rich cultural tapestry of Singapore with literary prose and fresh interrogations of genre fiction. Wolf's Path is a howl of triumph."
– Rachel A. Rosen, author of Cascade"Wolf's Path is an intricately exciting collection of speculative stories, poetry, and personal essays that flow together with an undercurrent of warmth and thoughtfulness. Joyce wonderfully creates stories that expand and question perspectives, with characters that can be as sharp as claws and soft as paw pads. Highly recommended for those who enjoy memorable, speculative stories that are robustly imaginative and edged with a quiet (sometimes feisty!) intensity."
– Dhiyanah Hassan, artistRespect the waterways—anon, circa 2100.
It was the smell of burning that woke Cecily up. She got up, wrapped her sleeping robes around her body and padded out. It was still cold, even in this time of morning with the sun shining bright in the sky. She squinted—blue, with white fluffy clouds. It looked like a good day ahead. She adjusted her footing; the boat rocked gently beneath her.
"Good morning," her companion greeted her. He held a plate of burnt fish. She sighed. After all this time, he was still burning fish. And fish and fuel were not easy to obtain. Those little ikan selar—she was hit by a pang for home—came from their dwindling supplies. They needed to travel down the Waterways for the barter.
However, the fish was still salvageable, just as things were still salvageable in this day and age. She nibbled at them, grimacing at the bitter taste of carbon in her mouth. The flesh was surprisingly sweet. She used to eat them as a child, deep-fried and accompanying a special coconut rice dish her mother cooked. On Sundays, she remembered, when every family member was home. But where was home now?
She washed the fish down with water, savoring the taste of it. Sweet. Slightly brackish. Drinkable water was hard to come by too and every boating folk had their private stash, their hoard. So ironic that they were surrounded by water, water, water."
While she was eating, her companion—he called himself Lent, first name Si—went back to repairing Flotsam, their boat. Flotsam was more than just a boat; he was their house, their shelter and their identity. Without Flotsam, a boater was without a name, without a solid tangible background. Yet, Flotsam had suffered from minor ills—his rotors refused to work, after a particularly long journey or that his fuel tanks—ethanol, but hard to distill—were empty. He had served them faithfully, loyally.
Si whistled as he fixed the rotors. He was a trained mechanic and he loved working with machines, getting his hands dirty with engine oil and tools. Cecily watched him with a rush of tenderness in her breast. They were all travelers on the Waterways. He came from an old city called New York, she a tiny island by the name of Singapore. These places were now submerged in water—only the skyscrapers served as reminders of their joined pasts. Home, solid terra firma, was gone.
