Passwords: the new magic words

"In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God."
-John 1:1 KJV

Magic words have deep roots in our culture. In The Bible the creation of the universe is accomplished by the Hebrew god's declarative sentences. Adam's first important act in Genesis is to give the animals their names. Many of the phrases we consider "magic words" have their origin in Christian religious ritual. Hocus pocus , for example, may find its root in hoc est corpus (the "this is my body" line of the Communion ritual).

The neat thing about a magic word is that it can be written in an old language whose source is disputed (Abracadabra has possible sources in Greek, Aramaic, Hebrew, and Syrian), can be written in nonsense (presto chango), an invented language, or pseudo-Latin (popular with medieval conjurers and J.K. Rowling), pseudo-Arabic, or pseudo-Greek.

Regardless of how they are formulated, there is no denying that magic words are an important source of a magician's power. The wizard in LeGuin's Earthsea Trilogy performs his magic and can be controlled through knowledge of true names . In the Lord of the Rings, the fellowship is stopped at the Dimrill Gate, unable to open it and enter Moria. The door is inscribed with an obscure Elvish dialect that reads: "speak, friend, and enter." As Gimli points out, the inscription is "plain enough. If you are a friend, speak the password and enter." Gandalf tries a whole series of powerful magic words until, under duress, he stumbles on "Mellon-" the common Elvish word for "friend." Gandalf quite literally speaks "friend" and enters. His magic words were of no use to enter the door- and thus began the age of passwords.

Many years ago I read an article by Robert Cringely pointing out that software programmers building the applications that manage our bank accounts, mutual funds, and stock trades, manage our amazon.com transactions, eBay purchases, and my weekly grocery delivery, are huge fans of the Lord of the Rings. Is it any wonder that our entrance to these virtual worlds is guarded by passwords?

Our passwords are cobbled nuggets of our inner selves- words, names, numbers, phrases, ideas that have some very personal meaning to us. We take those nuggets and obscure them in a myriad of ways to keep our bank accounts and identities safe. When it is time to log on and open the magic door to our virtual life, only we know the password. And we protect the knowledge of these words in much the same way as LeGuin's wizard protects the knowledge of his true name.

Passwords are the new magic words of our magical modern life.

* I was helped writing this post by Craig Conley's book The Magician's Hidden Library . Check it out!

Carol Emshwiller

In an earlier blog post I mentioned that Carol Emshwiller won the Neubla for best short story. Though I haven't had the opportunity to read the story that got the prize, I just finished her two most recent tales.

"The Seducer" appears in the Oct/Nov issue of Asmiov's, and "Killers" is in the Oct/Nov F&SF. The two stories shared some striking similarities that may indicate something about Emshwiller's current trends as a writer.

1. First person, present tense.
2. Protagonist has had to care for elderly, ornery parents. At the start of the tale, the protagonist is freed from this obligation by their deaths.
3. A spectral sibling- important to the protagonist in early life, now missing.
4. Moving up the mountain- as tensions rise, the characters seek higher ground.
5. Celibate (or unemotionally unattached) protagonist is overwhelmed by love for specimen of the opposite sex who does not conform to protagonist's ideal of beauty.
6. Short noun titles implying active characters.

This was the very first story I've read out of my new Asimov's subscription. I was shocked when I got to the end and realized "The Seducer" isn't science fiction.

"Revelations"

I just finished "Revelation" by Albert E. Cowdrey in the Oct/Nov issue of F&SF. Here are my favorite lines, descriptions of self-centered, paranoid college student, U:

"'The truth is,' he went on, eyes taking on the thousand-yard stare of introspection, 'it really baffles me not knowing where the dragon came from.'"

"After his outburst U sat in silence while the filmy cataracts of self-absorption slowly cleared from his eyes..."

Additional kudos for getting Gordon Van Gelder's name and the title of the magazine into the story. Would have made a tough sale in Asimov's or Realms of Fantasy- along with the fact that the story was neither science fiction nor preciesly fantasy, but something in between .

Coagulate

Today I encountered "coagulate" in two unusual descriptions:

1. Perdido Street Station (China Mieville)
"Perched where two rivers strive to become the sea, where mountains become a plateau, where the clumps of trees coagulate to the south and- quantity becomes quality- are suddenly a forest."
- Mr. Motley explains his theory of Transition to Lin.

2. "Revelation" (Albert E. Cowdrey)
"I can't coagulate my thoughts...I can think of A, or B, or J, but how they connect, I don't know."
-U blames this condition on the fact that he has been administered an anticoagulant.

Digital Trend

"I'm all for compassion, just not on my dime."

-from the "Bank Job" Barenaked Ladies Are Me (Page, Robertson)

What a great song lyric. The first time I heard it, it hit me right in the solar plexus. I could have written reams trying to explain the morality of the world I am living in, but Ed Robertson and Steven Page said it in a single line. The fact that they slid this profound insight into a story about guys sticking up a bank filled with nuns makes the Barenaked Ladies my heroes of the week.

So, how did I get to hear this BNL album on September 12th, right on the release date? Did I rush to Union Square and pound down the doors of the Virgin Megastore? No way! I just logged onto Rhapsody, and grabbed it- no extra charge, just part of my subscription. I get an all-you-can-eat buffet of awesome music for a monthly subscription fee that is less than the price of a single CD. Kind of makes you happy to live in the digital age.

Pioneered by iTunes, digital music has been around- and profitable- for some time. It seemed inevitable that digital video would follow. I've actually been tapping my toes, glowering as my bookshelves fill with DVDs (I'm buying eBooks now whenever possible- though some dead tree books constantly trickle into the house). Sure enough, this week both amazon.com and iTunes announced digital video stores. My husband and I sped through cyberspace to check them out- looks like Amazon has some software issues to sort out before it is really usable. As expected, iTunes digital video store is slick and easy to use. Right now they only have titles from Disney- but not all of them are cartoons. And, hey, what's wrong with cartoons? Apple had to start somewhere, but I'm looking forward to wider selection.

In addition, this week Apple announced the ILoad , a device which will load content directly to your living room TV. We're using a less groundbreaking, but equally cool device to play any of our millions of Rhapsody tracks on our living room stereo. It looks like tech is finally getting ready to cozy up on the sofa.

An interesting phenomenon about iTunes music and video stores, and about Fictionwise's eBook store, is that when you purchase digital media it is stored on a virtual bookshelf- which doesn't take up any room in my apartment! The idea is, that if I accidentally erase an eBook off my Palm, or need to make room for more music on my portable digital music player, it's no problem. I have bought the rights to to the music, and virtual stores remember what I bought and let me access it from my virtual bookshelf whenever I need it. No need to clutter up devices

So, how do I access my virtual bookshelf? All I need is an internet connection...and a password. I need a password for almost everything I do: ordering a book, ordering my groceries, balancing my check book. Blog post coming soon- "Passwords: modern-day magic words."

Toward the End of Time

I love the cover of this book: the terra-cotta bust of a man, facial features just beginning to crumble and erode. The cover suggests the earthy, human nature of Updike's 1997 offering, and hints at the philosophy within. What it does not indicate is that Toward the End of Time is actually a spec fiction novel. Phoebe-Lou Adams of the Atlantic Monthly identifies three speculative elements to the narrative: future fantasy, science fiction, and magical realism.

Here's the future fantasy angle: Updike asks what American life would be like if the U.S. lost a major war with China. The answer seems to be "not that different from what it is today," provided you live in the American Northeast. The year is 2020. The dollar is gone, the federal government is hiding. But that tireless American spirit of get up and go has caused locals to organize local monetary systems. Freelancers of varying respectability take protection money to keep the area safe so that people can go to work and children can go to school. For retired investment adviser, Ben Turnbull, normal life means helping his second wife tend the garden, infrequent visits with his ten or so grandchildren, and trying to keep his aging body from falling apart.

Here's the science fiction angle: Multiple universes. Quantum theory. Is Ben going a little bit senile, or has his life suddenly taken an unexplained (but not unwelcome) leap to an unfamiliar reality? Ben does a lot of musing on the nature of science in this book. Be prepared to stop and listen- he's in his late seventies, after all, and he's not moving or thinking too quickly these days. One other neat science fiction element: metallobioforms- mechanical creatures designed to clear away large tracts of land for human exploitation. Occasionally one of these metallobioforms will wander into the wrong place and gnaw off someone's leg, and there is some fear they will evolve to newer "more voracious" forms, but Ben isn't very afraid of them, since they must stick to "oily, electricity-rich" areas like cities, train tracks, gas stations. Like so many other science fictional elements of this book, metallobioforms are only one cool periphery to the story.

Last but not least, magical realism: Toward the End of Time is chock full of fantastical elements that Ben absorbs as no less real than the persistent and demoralizing deterioration of his body. There is also heavy use of symbolism equating the passage of time in the natural world with Ben's aging, and the identification of Ben's young lover with the deer his wife seems bent on exterminating from their backyard. Wikipedia defines one element of magical realism as: "Emotions and the sexuality of the human as a social construct are often developed upon in great detail." Toward the End of Time fulfills this convention and then some. Ben may be old, but he's not dead, yet.

And here's why I loved the book: the language. This is not a plot-driven page-turner. It is a beautiful, meditative, honest look at the human condition. As a speculative fiction fan, I'm so happy Updike chose to set this human drama in the future.

Note: This is not a book for the prudish, nor for anyone unwilling to look death and decay straight in the eye.

A Wizard of Earthsea

This morning I finished the first novel of Ursula K. LeGuin's Earthsea Trilogy. I was enchanted by the tale, and at the same time mystified by how LeGuin pulled it off. She broke many of the conventions that are supposed to result in an excellent fantasy novel. For example:

1. Telling the story from a third person omniscient point of view: while the majority of the narrative draws the reader into protagonist Ged's actions, thoughts, and feelings, surprising p.o.v. leaps occur when we see the thoughts of other characters, or when the all-knowing voice of the narrator tells us what will happen to Ged in the future.
2. Skimming over a long, consecutive timeline: LeGuin covered nineteen years of Ged's life in a 144-page novel. Compare that to a Tolkein book, which may refer to events in the past, but follows a very tight narrative timeline. Compare to Harry Potter (a fair comparison since young Ged goes to wizarding school). Ten months of Harry's life result in door-stoppers.
3. Handful of characters: there is only one character who matters in this book, and that is Ged. Mentors, one friend, a rival, and two young women are fleeting presences in Ged's life. They come and go, subtly altering the course of his journey. Yet only three very special characters make a second appearance. Compare this to Jordan and Tolkein, whose cast of characters is so vast and intricate that a special glossary is included to help readers keep track of them.
4. Protagonist already knows his power: Ged may have a lot to learn, but he knows he can use magic before his adventure begins. There is no magical revelation of his true nature, no shock or adjustment as he comes to terms with his new-found power. Ged is no hobbit stepping up to the plate, no Daenerys Targaryen unaware she has inherited the power of her ancestors, no Harry Potter taken aback to learn he is a wizard, no Rand shocked and terrified to learn that he can touch the Source.
   

Reading the opening pages ofA Wizard of Earthsea (The Earthsea Cycle, Book 1), I was delighted by the setting: a world almost entirely water, with tiny, isolated islands of land. I had fun looking through the maps and exploring what made this world different than my own. But I was quite concerned how I would begin to identify with a young man whose childhood history skimmed by in passages of exposition illuminated by brief scenes of narration. But Wizard of Earthsea was a moving adventure, worthy of the comparisons to Tolkein touted on the back cover. So how did LeGuin do it?

She used rules- not rules about narrative style or fantasy convention, but rules about magic.

You see, magic is not something you are born with or born without. It isn't something that you study, or something that you master. Magic is inherent in everything, as natural to every rock, every tree, every soaring sparrow hawk, as the waves that lap the rocky beaches of Earthsea. Magic is what created the world, it is the essence of anything that exists; and anything that exists can be called upon by its true name- its name in the Old Speech of the dragons- to make the fantastic happen.

A mage, or wizard, or a simple village witch is a special person with the ability to call things by their True Name. The ability to stir the wind, create an illusion, or even transfigure an illusion into something of substance, depends on the depth of the wizard's knowledge of Old Speech. The use of magic to physically alter reality carries with it heavy consequences that may drastically disturb the delicate balance of reality.

It is by establishing these rules of the magical world that LeGuin draws the reader into Ged's journey. Young Ged is goaded into making some bad choices at a point in his career when he has more power than wisdom. His struggle with the consequences results in a gripping story that plays poetically and emotionally through the natural laws of magic of Earthsea.

Sweet Serenity

Before I begin my review, you should know that for most of my adult life television has equaled Joss Whedon. This screenwriter/director understands that drama does not move the human spirit unless it is laced with humor. His space western television series, Firefly , is an excellent example of his ability to mash together seemingly disparate ideas- drama and humor, cowboys and space ship pilots, futuristic geisha and girls turned science experiment- and make everybody wonder why nobody thought to do it before. His translation of this short-lived television series to film was a huge success, and not just according to me. As mentioned in earlier posts, Serenity has won both Hugo and Nebula awards. Check out Serenity's wikipedia page to read about the seven or so other awards it has won.

Now, let's get down to why Serenity is so good.

Serenity is about people. Whedon isn't telling a story about science, he's telling a story about how people in a world changed by science go on putting one foot in front of the other. Serenity draws the viewer in with an ensemble cast of characters who need enough fuel, oxygen, food, and cash to eke out another day of semi-legal survival on the fringe of planetary pioneer life. Beyond sheer survival, the characters have other hopes and dreams. Zoe and Wash would like things to calm down so they can have a baby. Kaylee would just be happy to have sex. Inara would like Mel to stop thinking her geisha-esque profession makes her a whore. Jayne would like a chance to use his most awesome gun. Simon is trying to keep his sister, River, from being captured, tortured, and abused by the Alliance government. As captain, Mal is trying to make sure his crew don't all end up dead like his platoon in the Battle of Serenity- the battle which, by the way, put the Alliance in power. Of all the characters, Mal most embodies the show's mission statement: "It's just about getting by. That's always been the mission statement of what the show is -- getting by." (writer, Tim Minear).

Serenity's fun characters and situations embody the film's theme, which deals with the nature of humanity. Again and again, we see the Alliance's attempts to "improve" people. We also see the consequences of those "improvements," and they aren't pretty. Whedon seems to be saying that people are going to be people: no amount of tinkering is going to change anything. The moving conclusion of the film, which I do not wish to spoil, proposes an alternate solution to creating a better society- one that recognizes that the way toward healing is not to change the definition of humanity, but to open up communication, exchange ideas, work on solving problems collectively.

I think it's a cool message, and a cool film. If you haven't seen it, I highly suggest you check it out.