Here's the premise: Sometimes ordinary people develop small but extraordinary abilities, nothing powerful enough to qualify them as superheroes, but enough to put them at risk of being misunderstood, feared, or institutionalized if they aren't lucky or careful. And having to be careful takes a toll. Two friends, both of whom had peculiar abilities, survive a war and decide to establish a haven for superheroes, third class, where they will be understood and accepted.

The first story, "The One About the Founding (1918)", describes the friends, the war they survived, and the price they paid. Mathew Chandler, broken in body and spirit, needs something to live for, now that he can no longer work as a physician. His friend, Timothy Dunne, whose odd ability is to bring briefly to life the origami shapes he folds, comes up with the idea of Val Hall, in part to give his best friend a safe haven and a renewed purpose in life. Ah, but the name should spark associations. Val Hall? Anything to do with Valhalla, Hall of the Slain, where Odin's chosen heroes go after death? Yes, and no. Timothy Dunne, founder, is a son of Odin-illegitimate and ignored, but possessed of immortality and an adherent of the old customs of hospitality.

So Val Hall is for the living, the valiant who survived crises, who alleviated suffering, who endured and helped others endure. Some of the heroes, third class, come to Val Hall to recuperate, then move on; for others, it is they place they can live out their years in safety, among others who understand. Val Hall will be Odin's son's gift to mankind.

One hundred years later, Val Hall is a well-established reality, situated on an island of Washington State. Ferries transport visitors, staff, new arrivals and departing heroes. One of the staff attendants is named Eddie, and he becomes the thread that we readers follow, as he moves quietly about, interacting with residents, hearing their stories, answering questions, bringing them cups of tea or lemonade or cider.

The second story is "The One About The Symphony (1942)". Ordinarily, my grammatical eye would object to the capitalization of "The" in the middle of a title, but after reading this story, I am absolutely fine with that capital T. The symphony in question, for any readers who, like myself, do not know enough history for their hair to stand on end at the sight of the year, is Shostakovich's Seventh, also known as the Leningrad Symphony. The frame for the story is an odd encounter between two residents, to which Eddie is made privy. What follows is told from the point of view of an eleven-year-old girl, Masha, the daughter of two musicians who play violin in the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra. In 1941, Hitler sends a portion of his army to lay siege to the Russian city, surrounding it and firing upon it. Only one very dangerous route in and out of the city is not entirely closed off: across the water of Lake Ladoga. As winter closes a second fist around the city, a few people are smuggled out, and one of them is the composer Dimitri Shostakovich, whose eyesight was so bad he was rejected by the Red Army. But before he departs, Masha's ability has touched them both; she has heard the music gather around him, and she has used her Voice to fire his resolve to write it, to make sure the music of their city is heard.

The rest of the story is an utterly harrowing depiction of that terrible siege, how people starved, and died, and clung to life. How frail, starving musicians gathered around the conductor Eliasberg to practice a symphonic score smuggled back across the water.  How the symphony was broadcast over speakers on August 9th of 1942, in defiance of the German Army. How the music gave people a reason to stay alive, and how it changed minds and hearts.

If you only ever read one thing by Alma Alexander, please read "The One About The Symphony (1942)". And then, maybe listen to a recording of the symphony, and Stan Roger's all but forgotten song, "At the Elbe". Not to excuse present horrors being perpetrated, but on the contrary, to remind us all we have no call to do onto others what we didn't and don't want done to us.

"The One About The Promised Land" (another entirely justified capital T) has another young protagonist, a girl named Joanna, who inherits a tradition of responsibility from her grandmother in 1936, the gift of being a Walker, how she comes to realize that Martin Luther King, Jr. also possesses that gift-among others- and how she eventually passes the gift along.

It is worth pointing out that the author, Alma Alexander, "was born in a country which no longer exists on maps". I suspect that she feels a consonance between the magic of being a Walker and the magic that imbues Slavic fairy tales about one who is sent "I know not where to find I know not what", to ultimately set something right, or to accomplish the seemingly impossible. I rather suspect this is her favorite of the Val Hall tales. It is as if, by the ending, she is inviting all of us to become Walkers.

"The One About Ancient Bones (1974)", which has a charming frame story, is about the ability to take in impressions from things one holds in one's hand- which is a real, well-documented psychic phenomenon. It can be a hazardous ability, for one can see, or worse, experience directly, very ugly memories.  The protagonist has a bad experience and becomes a drifter, eking out an existence by working in museums and helping police solve crimes on the side. One day, when she has nothing left to lose, she breaks all the rules of museum curatorship and touches… the bones of "Lucy": at the time, the oldest discovered hominid. A great story for anthropologists and psychic sensitives.

By now, many readers will have detected the author's homage to the TV show Friends inherent in the chapter titles. This is quite intentional. The whole reason of existence for Val Hall is to be a place where the theme song of the beloved show holds true.

"The One About Ashes (1980)" centers around the 1980 eruption of Mt. Saint Helena. A young man becomes a superhero, third class, when deadly danger overtakes him, his best friend, and many others too close to the volcano. His transformation enables him to save some lives, but his foolhardiness also caused deaths. Years later he comes to Val Hall, not seeking expiation, but very much in need of it.

"The One About The Face Of God (1986)" is the one I cannot bear to reread. It's still too raw. I couldn't see the page through my tears.

"The One About Tomorrow's Yesterdays (2002)" focuses on the oldest resident of Val Hall. Johnny, who is much, much older than he appears, has true dreams, prophetic dreams. (I wonder if the author had Prester John in mind when she wrote this tale?) His gift becomes focused on identifying, in advance, the superheroes who will, in the unfolding of time, have need of what Val Hall offers, and he entrusts Eddie with the responsibility of finding these people so they never end up lost. It is a very gentle, kind tale, bringing the book to closure: full circle or open spiral. It explains how Eddie knows so much about the residents, in this collection and in the sequel.

I had the great good fortune to briefly meet the author at Worldcon 2022, Chicon8. This is a woman with profound depths. These stories, snapshots of historical events and movements, are imbued with a sense of courage, of faith and hope even when they recount horrors. Strongly recommended. - Chris Wozney

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