Pink Elephants on Parade
A friend of mine from Bangalore, India sent me a link to a Discovery Channel program called "The Lost Temples of India." The first temple to be explored is the Tanjore Shrine built by Rajaraja Chola I. If you've ever seen one of these Discovery Channel shows on ancient wonders, you know it's almost obligatory to do a modern day recreation of some architectural feat to understand how it would be possible for an incredible structure, such as the Tanjore Shrine, to have been built without the aid of modern machinery.
It turns out that Rajaraja kept a whole herd of war elephants, and historians speculate that these massive animals helped move the stone from the quarry to the building site. Think Flinstones, but with elephants instead of wooly mammoths. The recreation on the Discovery Channel program showed two elephants dragging a massive piece of stone over logs. Men ran behind them, grabbing the logs left in their wake, and using them to create more rolling track ahead.
But what really caught me about this documentary was not the fact that these creatures could move enormous weights- it was the bit of the film that talked about the Rajajraja's use of elephants in war. They immediately brought to mind Tolkien's oliphaunts.
First, to please Professor Tolkien, let's talk a little about the etymology of this word. In Middle Earth, it is only hobbits who refer to these enormous creatures as oliphaunts. They are known to Gondorians as mûmak.
But it is the word oliphaunt that sticks with us, probably because it sounds quite a lot like elephant, and because we identify most easily with the hobbits.
We can be certain Tolkien was familiar with the olifant horn, a battle horn made from the ivory tusk of an elephant. The olifant played a critical role in the Song of Roland, in which the hero is too proud to blow his olifant for help in battle, until it is too late.
"Oliphant" still survives as a Middle English word for elephant. It came down to the English tongue through various roots describing both camels and elephants, having roots of elef- in Greek and Latin languages, and having roots of of olb- and ulb- from Germanic languages.
But no matter how you spell it, there is no doubt these were powerful, dangerous creatures in war. So, back to historical war elephants to learn a little about how they were used.
Trained for battle by mahouts, war elephants were something like modern day tanks. They could move armies at incredible speeds toward battle, and cut through ranks of enemies with the razor sharp blades on their trunks. They could trample cavalry without even trying. Spear throwers on their backs struck at the mounted and foot soldiers below.
But don't forget that these war elephants had it pretty tough. They were beseiged by a number of horrors. First of all, hundreds or thousands of screaming, armed men were surrounding them. War elephants were an obvious first target, a tactical target to be taken down straight away. Enemies would swarm to strike the elephant's legs and bring them down.
Secondly, it was common practice to send animals with lit straw on their backs charging and smoking at the elephants in order to frighten them. I read one report (Roman) in which live pigs were doused in sticky oil and lit afire. Their shrieking was known to cause intense terror to the elephants (poor pigs, too!!!).
So how did the mahouts get the elephants to plunge into the terror of battle? Just as a human warrior might bolster his courage with a little alcohol, the elephants were given fermented rice liquor before they were driven to fight. The mahouts quite literally got them drunk.
So, as I sat thinking of war elephants, and the great vats of rice liquor into which they must have thrust their trunks, do you know what started going through my head?
That's right: Dumbo. You know the scene where he gets a little tipsy? There are a million cartoon elephants dancing in bubbles around his head, and they play the song "Pink Elephants on Parade."
Goofy? Sure. But it's a heck of a lot more fun to think about than those poor pigs! And you've got to admit it's a catchy tune.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch!
"Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!"
Can anyone guess the source of the quote? Who is this hideous monster, Moloch? And who wrote about him?
Points for trying if you said The Bible. Close, but no cigar.
If, like me, the first thing you thought of was "I Robot, You Jane" (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 1), you don't get any points at all.
The winner is: Allen Ginsberg writing Part II of his famous poem, Howl. Yes, you've heard of it. Let me quote the more famous opening of Part I:
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked."
And if all that brings to mind is "I Should Be Allowed To Think" by They Might Be Giants, then you really should read Howl in all its depressing Beat Generation rage.
So, if Ginsberg isn't referring to Buffy or They Might Be Giants, who is this Moloch he's talking about?
Ginsberg's reference to Moloch no doubt comes from The Bible. Moloch had his origins as an old tribal god, whose various names float around the letters "M," "L," and "K.". Moloch's favorite supper was roasted baby- and the Old Testament does its best to discourage the Sons of Israel from letting Moloch burn and devour their children. As a result of his bad reputation in the Old Testament, Moloch became associated with demonology.
So what is Moloch doing stalking the streets of Manhattan in Howl? Well, my husband and wikipedia both agree that Moloch is standing in for American consumerism. I'd agree...but I'd say Moloch the Corrupter runs even deeper than frustration with capitalism.
Human beings have to do a lot of disagreeable things in order to survive. True, the skyscrapers, electricity, and banks mentioned in Ginsberg's poem are particular traits of American consumerism. But what about those armies? Even back in the Old Testament we read about fighting wars. Money is hardly new, and even banks have been around for a good, long while. So, humanity has always been making compromises- killing animals for food, killing other men to defend their families, struggling day-to-day to survive conditions of "filth" and "ugliness."
There's no doubt that the American lifestyle beginning to make itself evident in the 1950's was taking the old Moloch and turning him into a huge, smoking, mass-produced nightmare, so big that he was impossible to ignore. I don't doubt that it was enough to make Ginsberg scream- and he chose to do it in meter.
One last point before we get too hard on the U.S. of the mid 1950's. Let's remember that a certain Englishman by the name of Tolkien was publishing The Lord of the Rings right around the time that Howl was first performed and published. Tolkein's cry for the lost innocence of an unindustrialized civilization in England was rendered far diferently than Ginsberg's howl at American consumerism- but both men were reacting to the same contemporary problems.
Can anyone guess the source of the quote? Who is this hideous monster, Moloch? And who wrote about him?
Points for trying if you said The Bible. Close, but no cigar.
If, like me, the first thing you thought of was "I Robot, You Jane" (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 1), you don't get any points at all.
The winner is: Allen Ginsberg writing Part II of his famous poem, Howl. Yes, you've heard of it. Let me quote the more famous opening of Part I:
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked."
And if all that brings to mind is "I Should Be Allowed To Think" by They Might Be Giants, then you really should read Howl in all its depressing Beat Generation rage.
So, if Ginsberg isn't referring to Buffy or They Might Be Giants, who is this Moloch he's talking about?
Ginsberg's reference to Moloch no doubt comes from The Bible. Moloch had his origins as an old tribal god, whose various names float around the letters "M," "L," and "K.". Moloch's favorite supper was roasted baby- and the Old Testament does its best to discourage the Sons of Israel from letting Moloch burn and devour their children. As a result of his bad reputation in the Old Testament, Moloch became associated with demonology.
So what is Moloch doing stalking the streets of Manhattan in Howl? Well, my husband and wikipedia both agree that Moloch is standing in for American consumerism. I'd agree...but I'd say Moloch the Corrupter runs even deeper than frustration with capitalism.
Human beings have to do a lot of disagreeable things in order to survive. True, the skyscrapers, electricity, and banks mentioned in Ginsberg's poem are particular traits of American consumerism. But what about those armies? Even back in the Old Testament we read about fighting wars. Money is hardly new, and even banks have been around for a good, long while. So, humanity has always been making compromises- killing animals for food, killing other men to defend their families, struggling day-to-day to survive conditions of "filth" and "ugliness."
There's no doubt that the American lifestyle beginning to make itself evident in the 1950's was taking the old Moloch and turning him into a huge, smoking, mass-produced nightmare, so big that he was impossible to ignore. I don't doubt that it was enough to make Ginsberg scream- and he chose to do it in meter.
One last point before we get too hard on the U.S. of the mid 1950's. Let's remember that a certain Englishman by the name of Tolkien was publishing The Lord of the Rings right around the time that Howl was first performed and published. Tolkein's cry for the lost innocence of an unindustrialized civilization in England was rendered far diferently than Ginsberg's howl at American consumerism- but both men were reacting to the same contemporary problems.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
The Brief History of the Dead
"How many people was any one human being likely to remember? A thousand?...Ten Thousand? A hundred thousand? A million?"
This is the question posed by Kevin Brockmeier, author of The Brief History of the Dead. Brockmeier postulates an afterlife in stages, a sort of pleasant purgatory in which the departed live in "The City," going about their daily business: drinking coffee, going to work, reading the newspaper, dating, eating, and going to the movies. The only unusual thing about life in "The City" is that its inhabitants never age- they simply fade away at the death of the last person who remembers them in the world of the living.
Most residents adapt to life in "The City" pretty well. They set up shops, find roomates, and swap stories about their deaths. It is not unusual for new arrivals to find departed friends and family members. The reunited can have another chance to spend their lives together for forty or fifty years- or until there's no one left alive who remembers them.
But what happens when a pandemic strikes the world of the living? At first there's a surge of newcomers to "The City." Then, as fewer and fewer people are left alive to remember the dead, "The City" becomes a ghost town.
At this point we get down to the question of how many people one human being can remember- because that's exactly how many people are left alive: one.
The Brief History of the Dead follows the one surviving human on Earth as she struggles to eke out one more day of existence, then another. Her chapters alternate with the breathless wait of those in "The City" who depend on her survival for their very existence.
I can remember being asked to do a writing excercise, in which the first step was to write down every person I had ever met. It didn't matter if I could remember all their names: the smiling girl at the bagel shop, or the man with the earring who sells newspapers, was fine.
If you've ever compiled a list like this, as City resident Michael Puckett did, you might be not only surprised, but overwhelmed by the number of people who have intersected your life.
Michael Puckett went about making his list like I did: immediate and extended family, schoolmates, teachers, childhood friends, people you knew in high school and college, neighbors from every place you've lived. Co-workers. People you met in social and religious groups. Old girlfriends (boyfriends) and the people they knew. Friends of your children, people you met attending a wedding reception. Business contacts (like your insurance man, house contractor). Commercial contacts (that girl from the bagel store). As soon as Michael thinks his categories are complete, he remembers his Boy Scout troup, some guys from the gym, a woman he had seen at the library once "and for some reason had never forgotten." His dentist.
At the end of several days of trying to write down every single person he can remember, Michael did what I did: came across some family members he was very embarrassed not to have thought of right away, then tallied his list. Interested in Michael's census? He came up with the number forty-two thousand.
Whether this final total was inspired by the Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything, is subject to debate. But this staggering total is definitely the "answer" to this book.
What happens to us after we die? I don't know, and neither, I suspect, does Kevin Brockmeier. The deep chord struck in this book is not in speculating about the afterlife; it is the reflection of how we effect and are effected by the hundreds and thousands of other human beings passing through our lives. Memories of the people we've known haunt us- even when they're not dead.
Sit down and don't get up until you've filled three notebook pages with the names or descriptions of all the people you can remember. You'll see what I mean.
"How many people was any one human being likely to remember? A thousand?...Ten Thousand? A hundred thousand? A million?"
This is the question posed by Kevin Brockmeier, author of The Brief History of the Dead. Brockmeier postulates an afterlife in stages, a sort of pleasant purgatory in which the departed live in "The City," going about their daily business: drinking coffee, going to work, reading the newspaper, dating, eating, and going to the movies. The only unusual thing about life in "The City" is that its inhabitants never age- they simply fade away at the death of the last person who remembers them in the world of the living.
Most residents adapt to life in "The City" pretty well. They set up shops, find roomates, and swap stories about their deaths. It is not unusual for new arrivals to find departed friends and family members. The reunited can have another chance to spend their lives together for forty or fifty years- or until there's no one left alive who remembers them.
But what happens when a pandemic strikes the world of the living? At first there's a surge of newcomers to "The City." Then, as fewer and fewer people are left alive to remember the dead, "The City" becomes a ghost town.
At this point we get down to the question of how many people one human being can remember- because that's exactly how many people are left alive: one.
The Brief History of the Dead follows the one surviving human on Earth as she struggles to eke out one more day of existence, then another. Her chapters alternate with the breathless wait of those in "The City" who depend on her survival for their very existence.
I can remember being asked to do a writing excercise, in which the first step was to write down every person I had ever met. It didn't matter if I could remember all their names: the smiling girl at the bagel shop, or the man with the earring who sells newspapers, was fine.
If you've ever compiled a list like this, as City resident Michael Puckett did, you might be not only surprised, but overwhelmed by the number of people who have intersected your life.
Michael Puckett went about making his list like I did: immediate and extended family, schoolmates, teachers, childhood friends, people you knew in high school and college, neighbors from every place you've lived. Co-workers. People you met in social and religious groups. Old girlfriends (boyfriends) and the people they knew. Friends of your children, people you met attending a wedding reception. Business contacts (like your insurance man, house contractor). Commercial contacts (that girl from the bagel store). As soon as Michael thinks his categories are complete, he remembers his Boy Scout troup, some guys from the gym, a woman he had seen at the library once "and for some reason had never forgotten." His dentist.
At the end of several days of trying to write down every single person he can remember, Michael did what I did: came across some family members he was very embarrassed not to have thought of right away, then tallied his list. Interested in Michael's census? He came up with the number forty-two thousand.
Whether this final total was inspired by the Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything, is subject to debate. But this staggering total is definitely the "answer" to this book.
What happens to us after we die? I don't know, and neither, I suspect, does Kevin Brockmeier. The deep chord struck in this book is not in speculating about the afterlife; it is the reflection of how we effect and are effected by the hundreds and thousands of other human beings passing through our lives. Memories of the people we've known haunt us- even when they're not dead.
Sit down and don't get up until you've filled three notebook pages with the names or descriptions of all the people you can remember. You'll see what I mean.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Metamaterials
Not quite Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, but not far from the cloaking devices envisioned by Star Trek, metamaterials are in the news this week.
The first thing to understand about invisibility, is the kind of invisibility you are talking about. When we're thinking of Harry Potter's cloak, we're thinking of invisibility to light waves. If we go the sf route, we could talk about being invisible to electromagnetic waves, sound waves, microwaves, radar waves, infrared waves, ect.
Light wave invisibility, the kind of invisibility that would fool the human eye, is theoretically possible. How does it work? Metamaterials have a negative refraction index. In laymen's terms, this means they can form a shell around the object to be hidden, then act like light wave crossing guards, ushering the light waves away from the hidden object.
Before you get too excited, keep in mind that whatever form of radiation is blocked from "seeing" the hidden object, also prevents the hidden object from "seeing" out! If you're using your metamaterial shell to hide your "Ancestral Recall" MtG card from your brother, no problem. But if you plan to wrap a metamaterial shell around yourself to sneak out of the house, think again. Your mom couldn't see you, but you couldn't see where you were going. You'd be falling down the staircase and stepping on the family dog- unless you had a reliable navigation system in place, using sonar waves, for instance, to make up for your inability to see light waves.
One more caveat- this more important in military use than for sneaking out of the house (unless Mom has x-ray vision or super hearing)- to be truly, completely invisible means to be undetectable. That means the metamaterial wrapper must be able to hide what's inside from all the types of radiation (electromagnetic, sonar, radar, ect.) that could possibly detect it. To quote David Schurig from Duke University:
"If [you] want to cover the whole visible spectrum, that would [be] a tall order."
Not quite Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, but not far from the cloaking devices envisioned by Star Trek, metamaterials are in the news this week.
The first thing to understand about invisibility, is the kind of invisibility you are talking about. When we're thinking of Harry Potter's cloak, we're thinking of invisibility to light waves. If we go the sf route, we could talk about being invisible to electromagnetic waves, sound waves, microwaves, radar waves, infrared waves, ect.
Light wave invisibility, the kind of invisibility that would fool the human eye, is theoretically possible. How does it work? Metamaterials have a negative refraction index. In laymen's terms, this means they can form a shell around the object to be hidden, then act like light wave crossing guards, ushering the light waves away from the hidden object.
Before you get too excited, keep in mind that whatever form of radiation is blocked from "seeing" the hidden object, also prevents the hidden object from "seeing" out! If you're using your metamaterial shell to hide your "Ancestral Recall" MtG card from your brother, no problem. But if you plan to wrap a metamaterial shell around yourself to sneak out of the house, think again. Your mom couldn't see you, but you couldn't see where you were going. You'd be falling down the staircase and stepping on the family dog- unless you had a reliable navigation system in place, using sonar waves, for instance, to make up for your inability to see light waves.
One more caveat- this more important in military use than for sneaking out of the house (unless Mom has x-ray vision or super hearing)- to be truly, completely invisible means to be undetectable. That means the metamaterial wrapper must be able to hide what's inside from all the types of radiation (electromagnetic, sonar, radar, ect.) that could possibly detect it. To quote David Schurig from Duke University:
"If [you] want to cover the whole visible spectrum, that would [be] a tall order."
Monday, May 22, 2006
Dobby Stones
I was doing some research on Creatures of English Folklore for a fantasy short story, when I came across an entry for "Dobby: A hobgoblin belonging to Yorkshire and Lancashire." The site also mentioned a "Dobie" as a type of brownie. Indeed,the wikipedia entry on J.K. Rowling's character, Dobby, claims the brownie definition.
But one more thing, before we say Dobie, Dobby, who cares...there is also something in UK folklore called "Dobby Stones." I did some quick research on them, and they appear to be stones with holes in them. The holes hold offerings to the fairies.
In Scotland, Dobby Stones are believed to hold milk offerings to Grugach, goddess of the well-being of cattle.
I've even found Dobby (or Dobie) referenced as a "bogeyman." Fearful folk thus hung Dobby Stones over their doorways for protection from Dobbies, with or without the extra b!
No doubt Rowling intended the more friendly, garden-variety UK sprite as basis for her character.
I was doing some research on Creatures of English Folklore for a fantasy short story, when I came across an entry for "Dobby: A hobgoblin belonging to Yorkshire and Lancashire." The site also mentioned a "Dobie" as a type of brownie. Indeed,the wikipedia entry on J.K. Rowling's character, Dobby, claims the brownie definition.
But one more thing, before we say Dobie, Dobby, who cares...there is also something in UK folklore called "Dobby Stones." I did some quick research on them, and they appear to be stones with holes in them. The holes hold offerings to the fairies.
In Scotland, Dobby Stones are believed to hold milk offerings to Grugach, goddess of the well-being of cattle.
I've even found Dobby (or Dobie) referenced as a "bogeyman." Fearful folk thus hung Dobby Stones over their doorways for protection from Dobbies, with or without the extra b!
No doubt Rowling intended the more friendly, garden-variety UK sprite as basis for her character.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Computer Technology in "The Greening of Bed-Stuy"
It was 1984 when Frederik Pohl published "The Greening of Bed-Stuy". War Games had just been a 1983 movie hit, portraying the cracker as anti-hero. More anti-hero cracker movies followed in the early nineties, including Sneakers (1992) and Hackers (1995). That same year, The Net became a smash hit, portraying the cracker not as an anti-hero, but as the villian in a thriller movie. It isn't a surprise that movies about crackers were popular in 1995, when the world wide web was becoming a common term in the average American household (see The Creation of the Internet). Nor is it surprising that the movie-going public was willing to see computer geniuses as both loveable anti-hero nerds and serious potential threats.
But why, in 1984, did Frederik Pohl write a movie in which the cracker was a villian? Was he worried about evildoers messing with his Gameline Atari 2600 system?
"The Greening of Bed-Stuy" struck me as a story without a coherent POV or plot. We are engaged in the adventures of a Brooklyn elementary school student playing hookie, a dying woman, a blind man, an escaping convict, and an ex-hooker. Pohl loosely ties these people together, mostly by family relation and circumstance. But often he spends pages on a scene that has little, if anything to do with the plot of the tale.
For example, early in the story we're drawn into the pathos of a woman whose body is practically dead. She is kept alive by machine. Her vocal chords are gone, and a computer must read her brain waves and turn her thought into speech. Her brain is being slowly poisoned, she is on the verge of death, and she must make an important decision about whether to live the last anguishing days of her life, die, or be frozen in hopes of finding a future cure.
Next we get some insight into the life of a blind engineer. His biological visual apparatus is so ruined, that there is no way his eyes can be repaired. Machines will have to do all his seeing for him. To keep him from bumping into things, his head is fixed with a nifty sf device that allows blobby shapes to be sent into his brain. At work, he is able to continue being productive using a machine that cost him a small fortune to manufacture. It has a camera that turns a picture into a detailed topography that the blind man can caress with his hands, allowing him to "see" the progress of his construction site, to "see" the changing emotions on a person's face.
Do you see the correlation between the dying woman and the blind man? They are both physically deformed, and computers (technology) have to help their brains interact with the outside world.
Then the plot moves to a prison break. We learn about a cracker who has embarked in a life of crime out of sheer boredom. He can make a computer do anything, and lawful employment in the technology field is simply no challenge. When he gets caught, life inside the big house converts him from a bored computer genius to an actual criminal. The cracker is being held in a high security prison. Escape is impossible because of a high-tech, computerized surveillance system. Prisoners can't move from place to place without the ID tags on their ankles being read by scanners. The computers will alert the guards if an inmate takes a single step anyplace he isn't scheduled to go. This computer-reliant system makes escape impossible for most prisoners, but not for the cracker.
There it is again- the insertion of technology between a human and his environment- in this case between human and human. "Shouldn't it be the guards' responsibility to watch the prisoners?" Pohl asks between the lines. "Why is there a layer of technology getting between the human guards and the human prisoners?"
Once seen in this light- as a cautionary tale about what can happen when our thoughts and actions have a computer as a go-between, the disparate concerns in "The Greening of Bed-Stuy" begin to form a coherent story.
It was 1984 when Frederik Pohl published "The Greening of Bed-Stuy". War Games had just been a 1983 movie hit, portraying the cracker as anti-hero. More anti-hero cracker movies followed in the early nineties, including Sneakers (1992) and Hackers (1995). That same year, The Net became a smash hit, portraying the cracker not as an anti-hero, but as the villian in a thriller movie. It isn't a surprise that movies about crackers were popular in 1995, when the world wide web was becoming a common term in the average American household (see The Creation of the Internet). Nor is it surprising that the movie-going public was willing to see computer geniuses as both loveable anti-hero nerds and serious potential threats.
But why, in 1984, did Frederik Pohl write a movie in which the cracker was a villian? Was he worried about evildoers messing with his Gameline Atari 2600 system?
"The Greening of Bed-Stuy" struck me as a story without a coherent POV or plot. We are engaged in the adventures of a Brooklyn elementary school student playing hookie, a dying woman, a blind man, an escaping convict, and an ex-hooker. Pohl loosely ties these people together, mostly by family relation and circumstance. But often he spends pages on a scene that has little, if anything to do with the plot of the tale.
For example, early in the story we're drawn into the pathos of a woman whose body is practically dead. She is kept alive by machine. Her vocal chords are gone, and a computer must read her brain waves and turn her thought into speech. Her brain is being slowly poisoned, she is on the verge of death, and she must make an important decision about whether to live the last anguishing days of her life, die, or be frozen in hopes of finding a future cure.
Next we get some insight into the life of a blind engineer. His biological visual apparatus is so ruined, that there is no way his eyes can be repaired. Machines will have to do all his seeing for him. To keep him from bumping into things, his head is fixed with a nifty sf device that allows blobby shapes to be sent into his brain. At work, he is able to continue being productive using a machine that cost him a small fortune to manufacture. It has a camera that turns a picture into a detailed topography that the blind man can caress with his hands, allowing him to "see" the progress of his construction site, to "see" the changing emotions on a person's face.
Do you see the correlation between the dying woman and the blind man? They are both physically deformed, and computers (technology) have to help their brains interact with the outside world.
Then the plot moves to a prison break. We learn about a cracker who has embarked in a life of crime out of sheer boredom. He can make a computer do anything, and lawful employment in the technology field is simply no challenge. When he gets caught, life inside the big house converts him from a bored computer genius to an actual criminal. The cracker is being held in a high security prison. Escape is impossible because of a high-tech, computerized surveillance system. Prisoners can't move from place to place without the ID tags on their ankles being read by scanners. The computers will alert the guards if an inmate takes a single step anyplace he isn't scheduled to go. This computer-reliant system makes escape impossible for most prisoners, but not for the cracker.
There it is again- the insertion of technology between a human and his environment- in this case between human and human. "Shouldn't it be the guards' responsibility to watch the prisoners?" Pohl asks between the lines. "Why is there a layer of technology getting between the human guards and the human prisoners?"
Once seen in this light- as a cautionary tale about what can happen when our thoughts and actions have a computer as a go-between, the disparate concerns in "The Greening of Bed-Stuy" begin to form a coherent story.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Beyond Imagination:
The World of Science Fiction Fantasy and Art
This Saturday, University College London is hosting a conference for science fiction and fantasy artists. The conference, called "Beyond Imagination," is being organized by The Association of Illustrators.
Keynote speakers whom I immediately recognized were Alan Lee and Dave McKean.
I recognized McKean from his work on MirrorMask (see my post on MirrorMask).
Alan Lee, of course, is the famed Tolkein illustrator who teamed up with John Howe to create the splendid conceptual artwork for Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Perhaps my husband made me watch the special features disks of the Trilogy one too many times- but I have come to believe that the cinematic success of these films is largely due to Alan Lee and John Howe. These artists were able to translate the historical backstory that fueled the books into a visual backstory, which fueled the film.
I was also vaguely familiar with the name of another keynote speaker: Fred Gambino. Turns out he's done, among other things, a ton of cover art for Asimov's and Interzone.
Born without the ability to draw a stick figure, I am in awe of people who create fantasy scapes out of pigments and parchment. I think they're magical, and the field of speculative fiction would lose some of its magic without the visual arts.
It's worth checking out the Association of Illustrator's website. They have browseable portfolios up online- what fun! My personal favorite portfolio was Jenny Lloyd's. I loved the Eastern aesthetic of her art, and the way she used simple designs to create a sense of wonder.
Isn't evoking a sense of wonder what the field of science fiction and fantasy is all about?
The World of Science Fiction Fantasy and Art
This Saturday, University College London is hosting a conference for science fiction and fantasy artists. The conference, called "Beyond Imagination," is being organized by The Association of Illustrators.
Keynote speakers whom I immediately recognized were Alan Lee and Dave McKean.
I recognized McKean from his work on MirrorMask (see my post on MirrorMask).
Alan Lee, of course, is the famed Tolkein illustrator who teamed up with John Howe to create the splendid conceptual artwork for Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Perhaps my husband made me watch the special features disks of the Trilogy one too many times- but I have come to believe that the cinematic success of these films is largely due to Alan Lee and John Howe. These artists were able to translate the historical backstory that fueled the books into a visual backstory, which fueled the film.
I was also vaguely familiar with the name of another keynote speaker: Fred Gambino. Turns out he's done, among other things, a ton of cover art for Asimov's and Interzone.
Born without the ability to draw a stick figure, I am in awe of people who create fantasy scapes out of pigments and parchment. I think they're magical, and the field of speculative fiction would lose some of its magic without the visual arts.
It's worth checking out the Association of Illustrator's website. They have browseable portfolios up online- what fun! My personal favorite portfolio was Jenny Lloyd's. I loved the Eastern aesthetic of her art, and the way she used simple designs to create a sense of wonder.
Isn't evoking a sense of wonder what the field of science fiction and fantasy is all about?
Monday, May 15, 2006
Enkidu is Dead
Is anyone surprised that the world's oldest story, Gilgamesh, has the makings of a great speculative fiction tale?
Translator Stephen Mitchell writes:
"The hero of this epic is...a superman. [By] attacking a monster, he brings on himself a disaster that can only be overcome by an agonizing journey."
That sounds like the synopsis of a fantasy story. And let's not forget that Gilgamesh also boasts the world's first really nasty monster:
"Humbaba, whose roar booms forth like a thunderclap, whose breath spews fire, whose jaws are death."
It takes not one, but two supermen to go up against the likes of Humbaba.
Older than the Bible or the Illiad, Gilgamesh comes to us from engraved cuneiform stone tablets unearthed in Nineveh around 1844. One of the first bits to be translated was the account of Utnapishtim- a man who got warning of a Great Flood being stirred up by one of the gods to punish "sinful mankind." Fortunately, the gods gave him detailed instructions on how to build a great ship, capable of holding Utnapishtim's family, and "animals, wild and tame...of every kind." After raging for six days and seven nights, the storm and rain die down, and Utnapishtim sets a series of birds free from the ship. When the last bird, a raven, does not return, he knows dry land has been found.
Sound familiar? Utnapishtim gets a much better deal for his trouble than Noah did. Utnapishtim is rewarded for his journey with the seaweed equivalent of the Philosopher's Stone- the consuption of which grants him eternal life. As it so happens, eternal life is precisely what Gilgamesh is questing for.
Is it just me, or would this epic make a great MMO?
A Gilgamesh MMO would call for major parental guidance. Gilgamesh is no pre-Biblical religious tract- it's an adventure story, and sexuality enters frankly into the tale. No coy allusion to be found here- forget symbols of snakes and apples. When the storyteller wants to name a body part, he names it.
Enkidu, Gilgamesh's superhero double, is brought to life by the gods, but he is brought to civilization by a one of the priestesses who "give their body to any man". Here are the instructions given to Shamhat:
"Now use your love-arts. Strip off your robe and lie here naked with your legs apart...touch him, excite him, take his breath with your kisses."
I selected this as a mild passage in the Enkidu-Shamat scene. It gets much more graphic.
I could go even crazier here and suggest that Gilgamesh's passage to the underworld reminded me of 2001, but there's no need to go nuts. I think fire-breathing monsters, prototype superheroes, the mystical appearance of an "other self," magic plants, and a quest for eternal life, all fall easily within the scope of speculative fiction.
And throughout it all, Gilgamesh keeps asking something human beings have speculated about, apparently, since the beginning of time:
"Must I die too? Must I be as lifeless as Enkidu?"
Is anyone surprised that the world's oldest story, Gilgamesh, has the makings of a great speculative fiction tale?
Translator Stephen Mitchell writes:
"The hero of this epic is...a superman. [By] attacking a monster, he brings on himself a disaster that can only be overcome by an agonizing journey."
That sounds like the synopsis of a fantasy story. And let's not forget that Gilgamesh also boasts the world's first really nasty monster:
"Humbaba, whose roar booms forth like a thunderclap, whose breath spews fire, whose jaws are death."
It takes not one, but two supermen to go up against the likes of Humbaba.
Older than the Bible or the Illiad, Gilgamesh comes to us from engraved cuneiform stone tablets unearthed in Nineveh around 1844. One of the first bits to be translated was the account of Utnapishtim- a man who got warning of a Great Flood being stirred up by one of the gods to punish "sinful mankind." Fortunately, the gods gave him detailed instructions on how to build a great ship, capable of holding Utnapishtim's family, and "animals, wild and tame...of every kind." After raging for six days and seven nights, the storm and rain die down, and Utnapishtim sets a series of birds free from the ship. When the last bird, a raven, does not return, he knows dry land has been found.
Sound familiar? Utnapishtim gets a much better deal for his trouble than Noah did. Utnapishtim is rewarded for his journey with the seaweed equivalent of the Philosopher's Stone- the consuption of which grants him eternal life. As it so happens, eternal life is precisely what Gilgamesh is questing for.
Is it just me, or would this epic make a great MMO?
A Gilgamesh MMO would call for major parental guidance. Gilgamesh is no pre-Biblical religious tract- it's an adventure story, and sexuality enters frankly into the tale. No coy allusion to be found here- forget symbols of snakes and apples. When the storyteller wants to name a body part, he names it.
Enkidu, Gilgamesh's superhero double, is brought to life by the gods, but he is brought to civilization by a one of the priestesses who "give their body to any man". Here are the instructions given to Shamhat:
"Now use your love-arts. Strip off your robe and lie here naked with your legs apart...touch him, excite him, take his breath with your kisses."
I selected this as a mild passage in the Enkidu-Shamat scene. It gets much more graphic.
I could go even crazier here and suggest that Gilgamesh's passage to the underworld reminded me of 2001, but there's no need to go nuts. I think fire-breathing monsters, prototype superheroes, the mystical appearance of an "other self," magic plants, and a quest for eternal life, all fall easily within the scope of speculative fiction.
And throughout it all, Gilgamesh keeps asking something human beings have speculated about, apparently, since the beginning of time:
"Must I die too? Must I be as lifeless as Enkidu?"
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
An Introduction to Heechee
"Before Gateway came 'The Merchants of Venus'."
-Platinum Pohl
It turns out I'm reading about the Heechee in the same order that Frederik Pohl wrote about them- though not, interestingly enough, in fictional chronological order. The 1976 novel explains how human explorers discover ancient Heechee ruins on Venus. This 1972 short story takes place when treasure hunters long for the day when there were still Heechee tunnels left unexplored.
"The Merchants of Venus" (no pun on the Shakespeare play intended) portrays Audee Walthers struggle for survival. On Venus no money means no food, no water, no oxygen. Ouch. To make matters worse, Walthers has no Medicare, and if he doesn't get together money for medical treatment in a matter of months, he'll die.
Enter rich tourist Boyce Cochenour. He's a ninety-year-old from Earth who looks forty, and is running on more replacement parts than original organs. He looks good enough to attract the attention of a young and not unattractive companion, Dorotha.
Boyce's "been there done that" boredom makes him the perfect sponsor for a treasure hunt. Audee thinks he's got a map to buried treasure- which on Venus means an unexplored Heechee tunnel, hopefully laden with Heechee artefacts that will revolutionize human technology and make him rich enough to afford that liver transplant.
Of course, the chance of finding an unexplored Heechee tunnel is about equivalent to winning the lottery. But for Audee, it's his last chance to keep breathing.
Exciting, humorous, and gently cynical, "The Merchants of Venus" isn't Shakespeare, but it's an awfully fun read.
"Before Gateway came 'The Merchants of Venus'."
-Platinum Pohl
It turns out I'm reading about the Heechee in the same order that Frederik Pohl wrote about them- though not, interestingly enough, in fictional chronological order. The 1976 novel explains how human explorers discover ancient Heechee ruins on Venus. This 1972 short story takes place when treasure hunters long for the day when there were still Heechee tunnels left unexplored.
"The Merchants of Venus" (no pun on the Shakespeare play intended) portrays Audee Walthers struggle for survival. On Venus no money means no food, no water, no oxygen. Ouch. To make matters worse, Walthers has no Medicare, and if he doesn't get together money for medical treatment in a matter of months, he'll die.
Enter rich tourist Boyce Cochenour. He's a ninety-year-old from Earth who looks forty, and is running on more replacement parts than original organs. He looks good enough to attract the attention of a young and not unattractive companion, Dorotha.
Boyce's "been there done that" boredom makes him the perfect sponsor for a treasure hunt. Audee thinks he's got a map to buried treasure- which on Venus means an unexplored Heechee tunnel, hopefully laden with Heechee artefacts that will revolutionize human technology and make him rich enough to afford that liver transplant.
Of course, the chance of finding an unexplored Heechee tunnel is about equivalent to winning the lottery. But for Audee, it's his last chance to keep breathing.
Exciting, humorous, and gently cynical, "The Merchants of Venus" isn't Shakespeare, but it's an awfully fun read.
Monday, May 08, 2006
HUNGUR Magazine
I just received my contributer's copy of HUNGUR Magazine in the mail. The issue has an Egyptian-themed cover done by Marge Simon. Egyptian themes are echoed in Allyson Bird's story "Blood in Madness Ran," in Marge Simon's poem "When You Were Queen," and is mentioned in Edward Cox's article, "For the Dead Move Fast."
My story, "Daughter of Night" is on page 9. My bio is in the back, complete with a link to my website.
You can see an image of the cover and purchase the issue (or subscribe to the magazine) at the genre mall.
I'm looking forward to reading the issue. It is, to quote the editor, "overflowing with poetry and fiction."
I just received my contributer's copy of HUNGUR Magazine in the mail. The issue has an Egyptian-themed cover done by Marge Simon. Egyptian themes are echoed in Allyson Bird's story "Blood in Madness Ran," in Marge Simon's poem "When You Were Queen," and is mentioned in Edward Cox's article, "For the Dead Move Fast."
My story, "Daughter of Night" is on page 9. My bio is in the back, complete with a link to my website.
You can see an image of the cover and purchase the issue (or subscribe to the magazine) at the genre mall.
I'm looking forward to reading the issue. It is, to quote the editor, "overflowing with poetry and fiction."
Nebula Award Winners Announced
Kelly Link did well at the Nebula Awards this weekend, bringing home the award for best Novella and Novelette. "The Faery Handbag" appeared in The Faery Reel .
I went to the NYC signing of The Faery Reel (see April 3, 2006), though Link was not present. But Holly Black was!
Black is now the first ever winner of the Andre Norton Award! This new award category is for best young adult science fiction or fantasy. Black won the award for her novel, Valliant .
Joss Whedon took the script award for Serenity .
I've read both of the Kelly Link pieces, the Holly Black novel, and seen Serenity . I'm pleased with the SFWA's selections! ;-)
Joe Haldeman took the big novel prize home for Camouflauge . I'm a Haldeman fan, so I'm looking forward to reading this book.
Carol Emshwiller won best short story for a piece that appeared in the March 2005 F&SF . I was in Italy and missed this issue, so I'll be looking for it in other venues.
Kelly Link did well at the Nebula Awards this weekend, bringing home the award for best Novella and Novelette. "The Faery Handbag" appeared in The Faery Reel .
I went to the NYC signing of The Faery Reel (see April 3, 2006), though Link was not present. But Holly Black was!
Black is now the first ever winner of the Andre Norton Award! This new award category is for best young adult science fiction or fantasy. Black won the award for her novel, Valliant .
Joss Whedon took the script award for Serenity .
I've read both of the Kelly Link pieces, the Holly Black novel, and seen Serenity . I'm pleased with the SFWA's selections! ;-)
Joe Haldeman took the big novel prize home for Camouflauge . I'm a Haldeman fan, so I'm looking forward to reading this book.
Carol Emshwiller won best short story for a piece that appeared in the March 2005 F&SF . I was in Italy and missed this issue, so I'll be looking for it in other venues.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
The Nebulas Are Coming!
The 2006 Nebula Award Weekend is coming up (May 4th- May 7th). The event will be hosted in Tempe, Arizona.
The main event will be the announcement of the 2005 Nebula Awards. Categories are for best novel (x>40,000), best novella (17,500>x>40,000), best novellette (7,500>x>17,500), best short story (7,500>x), and best script.
It's interesting to note that, unlike the Hugo Award, the Nebula has a "rolling eligibility" system, which basically means that fiction can be considered for the award for one year after publication date. To be eligible for the Hugo Award, publication must fall in the calendar year of 2005. Wikipedia cites the interesting case of William Shun's novelette, "Dance of the Yellow-Breasted Luddites." Published in July 2000, it "ended up" on the 2001 ballot, and the award was presented in 2002.
Another difference between the Nebula and Hugo, is that the Nebula is strictly an affair of the SFWA. They vote on the preliminary ballot and the final ballot (10 preliminary ballot votes are needed to make it to the final ballot). Awards are presented at Gala events like the one to be hosted this weekend.
The Hugo, on the other hand, is chosen by science fiction fans, and is awarded at Worldcon. This year's Worldcon will be held in L.A. this August.
Check out the public version of the Hugo final ballot- it's sure to offer a great start to your summer reading list. And notice how many works of fiction- from novel to short story length- have links to a Fictionwise download!
The 2006 Nebula Award Weekend is coming up (May 4th- May 7th). The event will be hosted in Tempe, Arizona.
The main event will be the announcement of the 2005 Nebula Awards. Categories are for best novel (x>40,000), best novella (17,500>x>40,000), best novellette (7,500>x>17,500), best short story (7,500>x), and best script.
It's interesting to note that, unlike the Hugo Award, the Nebula has a "rolling eligibility" system, which basically means that fiction can be considered for the award for one year after publication date. To be eligible for the Hugo Award, publication must fall in the calendar year of 2005. Wikipedia cites the interesting case of William Shun's novelette, "Dance of the Yellow-Breasted Luddites." Published in July 2000, it "ended up" on the 2001 ballot, and the award was presented in 2002.
Another difference between the Nebula and Hugo, is that the Nebula is strictly an affair of the SFWA. They vote on the preliminary ballot and the final ballot (10 preliminary ballot votes are needed to make it to the final ballot). Awards are presented at Gala events like the one to be hosted this weekend.
The Hugo, on the other hand, is chosen by science fiction fans, and is awarded at Worldcon. This year's Worldcon will be held in L.A. this August.
Check out the public version of the Hugo final ballot- it's sure to offer a great start to your summer reading list. And notice how many works of fiction- from novel to short story length- have links to a Fictionwise download!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)