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Winner, IP Rolling Picks 2013, Best Fiction!

Drought. Heatwave. Environmental ruin…

Rion Saunders is forced to return to the ‘Belt and his hometown of East Hills as a Police Force draftee. Released from custody, Sylvia Baron must play a double game infiltrating the shadowy Misanthropos. The organisation’s founder, Sylvia’s ex-husband David, is on death row, while Jeremy Peters, Yellowcake Springs’ newest Director of Security, tries to keep a protest from spiralling out of control.

Do the answers lie in Controlled Waking State, CIQ Sinocorp’s newest stratagem to subdue a restless population?

Yellowcake Summer concludes the exciting story begun in Yellowcake Springs (shortlisted for 2012 Norma K Hemming Award for Science-Fiction).


Guy Salvidge

Guy Salvidge is a high school English teacher and writer living in rural Western Australia. His first novel, The Kingdom of Four Rivers, was published in 2009 and his second, Yellowcake Springs, won the IP Picks Award for Best Fiction in 2011 and was shortlisted for the Norma K Hemming Award in 2012.

In 2013, Guy was awarded an Emerging Writer-in-Residence position at the Katharine Susannah Prichard Writers’ Centre, where he started working on a ‘literary noir’ novel, Dan: A Cautionary Tale.

He has written extensively on the novels of Philip K. Dick and these essays are collected in SF Commentary 83. His short fiction recently appeared in Tincture Journal and Alien Sky. In 2013 he will be co-editing The Tobacco-Stained Sky: An Anthology of Post-Apocalyptic Noir from Another Sky Press.



ISBN 9781922120625 (PB, 254pp)
152mm x 229mm – release date 16 September 2013

AU$33 US$25 NZ$37 £16
ISBN 9781922120632 (eBk) AU$17 US$15 NZ$19 £9

"Guy Salvidge has finally released the sequel to his Yellowcake Springs novel that we reviewed many moons ago. It's only planned to be a two-parter, so this it: Yellowcake Summer. The first book, Yellowcake Springs was unusual in that some of the more worrisome portions of it weren't even the apocalyptic portions of it, but the dystopian portions that occurred within the small groups of people who were still able to live the dream of the Western life style. This novel appears to be continuing the trend."
– Russell Smith, Reflexiones Finales Review

"Guy Salvidge swings back to Yellowcake Springs by cannily fusing together this gritty dystopia with the stripped-back, sardonic eye of Raymond Chandler. Terrorism, environmental mayhem and dubious moral-codes each get a shoo-in, making the book an outstanding sequel that in fact trumps its superb predecessor."
– Andrez Bergen, One Hundred Years of Vicissitude

"Rated 4 of 5 stars.

This is a very potent sequel. By nature, it's very difficult for sequels to have the same power to surprise and amaze as their predecessor, but this one comes close -- and better yet, isn't a letdown in any way. One could read them out of order, but in my view the payoff is much greater by reading Yellowcake Springs first.

The vision that Salvidge has established of the future is consistent (and consistently grim). The adventure (especially of Rion) is entertaining, and the writing is again very sharp. What struck me here more than in "Springs" was the sense of black humor.

Sure, Salvidge is standing on the shoulders of Huxley, Orwell, et al. -- but he deserves to stand in their company."
- Rory Costello, Goodreads

"Guy Salvidge’s sensitively-drawn characters enact a compelling drama of conspiracy and gnarled relationships in what is in essence a dialogue between the ways of a future towered city and a future barren hinterland, both made possible by the corrupt policies of an Australia whose origins are visible today."
– Daniel King, Memento Mori


Guy Salvidge reads from Yellowcake Summer at Katharine Susannah Prichard Writers' Centre during the book launch:


1. Sensory Capture Array

Sylvia Baron was imprisoned, not that she particularly minded. She’d been held for almost three and a half years at Symonston Correctional Facility in Canberra without being convicted of a crime or even facing trial. For most of that time she’d had a room of her own, without needing to worry about money, work, or the needs of other people. It was a strange form of punishment. Her life was tensionless, a great empty. She had been sick; she was ready to admit that. But her ailment had been twenty-first century civilisation itself. Work had been her enemy. Colleagues had been her nemeses. Leisure had been her Achilles’ heel.

But now she was cured, or so she imagined.

She didn’t spend all her time in this space, of course. She was allowed an hour outside every day, in a walled quadrangle with a patch of grass and a park bench. The occasional bird came to meet her. And she spent an hour in the gym each morning, mostly running but also lifting weights. She hadn’t had as much as a mouthful of wine in more than a thousand days, and she was down under sixty kilos for the first time since she’d met David, her ex-husband. There was every likelihood that he would eventually be executed for his crimes, especially now that his co-conspirators, Clyde Owen and Patrick Crews, had testified against him. Her own crimes had mostly been apathy and cowardice. That was what she called it. They called it ‘Conspiracy to Commit a Terrorist Act’.

She was lying on her bed thinking about this phrase when her cell door opened and prison guards came into the room. "The Governor wants to see you," one of the guards said.

And so she went quietly. She had long since discovered that passivity was the key to a quiet life here. Even the slightest display of aggression was acted upon swiftly, and so for her there were no such outbursts. The guards, perhaps sensing her calm, did not clutch at her the way they sometimes did other inmates. She allowed herself to be led along corridors and into the Governor’s office. The air-conditioning was better in here. The stout, grey-haired woman behind the desk was Governor Marley and the others were her underlings and flunkies. Sylvia recognised one of the men as her advocate; she could never remember his name. She sat down where they told her to sit like a perfectly behaved automaton or slave. She had practised a serene expression in the mirror in preparation for this day or for days like these.

"Inmate Baron," the Governor said, "the time has come for the terms of your release to be explained to you."

"I’m being released?" Sylvia said.

The woman nodded slowly but she did not smile. "I’m afraid that our time together may be coming to an end far sooner than either of us could have anticipated. Ms Rose?"

One of the grey-clad wraiths cleared her throat. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, about Sylvia’s age. "I’m Superintendent Lyncoln Rose of the Australian Federal Police," the woman said. "I’ve been authorised to rescind all of the charges against you, providing that you agree to a suite of probationary conditions. Most of these are fairly routine. You won’t be able to obtain a passport or to leave the country for two years. You’ll be barred from certain occupations. And for obvious reasons you’ll be barred from the CIQ Sinocorp Protectorate at Yellowcake Springs."

"All right," Sylvia said. She didn’t ever want to go back to Yellowcake Springs.

"One of the conditions of the charges being dropped is that you will fully assist the AFP in the continuing investigation into the criminal conduct of your ex-husband, David Baron, as well as that of his followers."

"I’ve told you people everything. More than once," Sylvia said.

"And your depositions have been most helpful," Lyncoln Rose said, "but the AFP feels you could further aid our investigation by providing further information regarding the plans of the illegal organisation known as Misanthropos."

"There is no Misanthropos beyond David and those two backstabbers," Sylvia said. "I’ve told you people that a hundred times."

"I’m not referring to Misanthropos members active in 2058. I’m referring to Misanthropos members active now."

"It’s news to me."

"Well," Lyncoln Rose said, clasping her hands together. "Let’s just say that if there wasn’t a widespread organization by the name of Misanthropos in 2058, then undoubtedly there is one today. Your role will be to infiltrate this organisation."

"I’m not interested," Sylvia said.

"These are our conditions," Lyncoln Rose said. "You will be interested, and you will attend any and all Misanthropos meetings you are invited to attend."

"You want me to spy for you?"

"We want you to provide information to assist us in our investigation, yes, but you’ll never need to set foot into a police station again, at least not regarding this matter."


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