I've really been thinking about letter writing lately. Maybe it was writing holiday cards, or maybe it was listening too many times to "From My Own True Love (Lost at Sea)," a song in which the Decemberists keen "Mr. Postman, do you have a letter for me?" The Decemberists' tune brought back memories of listening to "Please Mr. Postman-" the version by the Carpenters my parents used to play when I was just a tater tot. I remember really connecting with that song, because when you're three years old, mail addressed in your name is a really big deal. I used to long along with Karen for someone to seal a message in an envelope, mark it with my name, and send it through mysterious channels to reach my front door. Magic. Slow motion conversations.
Now that I'm old enough to send and receive letters, I mostly use email. Sure, the delivery system is different (email has no yucky envelopes to lick) but letter delivery technology has a history of changing with the times- think back to the Pony Express (later replaced by the First Transcontinental Telegraph), or the pneumatic tubes that delivered mail twice daily in Paris. What interests me about the modern letter isn't just the technology used to deliver it, but the persistence of the letter through the dozens of way we now have to communicate.
Telephone, fax, mobile phone, SMS, chat room, message board, instant message, sites that allow users to share photos and video, blogging, online games, voice chat, and video chat. We have the technology to talk to each other across great distances face-to-face, real time, and to call each other anytime, anywhere. So why is so much of modern communication conducted as letters, albeit mailed electronically?
Email offers us instant asynchronous communication, and gives us the power to control the pace of our slow-motion conversations. Recipients can take as long as they want to reply to an email- hours, days, even weeks or months. But they also have the possibility to reply within seconds- which gives email superpowers that the guys running the Pony Express never dreamed of. I have written email to my husband while he is sitting in the same room with me. Why would I do that? The power of asynchronous communication is all about time- the summary of my research on feline nutrition may not be best communicated to my husband while he's battling the final board of his favorite video game. You might decide to email a colleague a few feet from your desk. Let my husband- and your colleague- get to your email when they have time to process it.
Asynchronous forms of conversation also leave a record- whether we're blogging, posting to a message board, or sending an email, it's pretty easy to re-read what we've written and how others have responded. The likelihood of finding a record of a conversation is in direct proportion to the asynchronism of the form of communication. I can pull up an email from 2004 with a few keystrokes. I can scroll back and re-read something a friend has written in an instant message window. Although it's certainly possible (and a little creepy) to record a telephone conversation, the content of a conversation isn't very searchable unless I keep written records correlating each conversation to its specific content.
The speed of interpersonal (and business) communication has an effect on our artistic expression. The epistolary narrative of Dracula was born in an era when people kept in touch by writing letters that took a long time to reach the recipient. Bob Newhart developed his famous stand-up routine (and later running TV gag) of one-ended phone conversations when it became possible to telephone people across incredible distances. The mobile phone has become a staple of modern action movies, to show the hero receiving critical information in the nick of time.
How is the instant asynchrony of the ubiquitous email affecting artistic expression?
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
Brandon Sanderson to write A Memory of Light
Today TOR announced that Brandon Sanderson will be writing the last book in Robert Jordan's epic fantasy Wheel of Time series. In an interview posted on WoT fan site Dragonmount.com, Sanderson talks about his "Characters first, everything else second" philosophy, tells us his favorite character and his favorite scenes in the series, and discusses why he thinks he was chosen to conclude the Wheel of Time. Both the announcement and the interview discuss notes Jordan left- some written, some audio recordings- with detailed explanations of how the book (and series) will end.
A Memory of Light is scheduled to be published in Fall 2009.
A Memory of Light is scheduled to be published in Fall 2009.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Wicked #1 on Kindle's Fantasy Bestseller List
My last two posts (The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West and Kindling the revolution of reading) are meeting up on on Amazon's Kindle Bestseller list. Maguire's Wicked has been the number one seller in the fantasy section of the Kindle store for at least the past two days. Today it rates #136 on the Kindle's overall Bestseller list.
Three of the top five leaders in science fiction are sf video game tie-ins (Halo and Mass Effect). The remaining top five include Slaughterhouse Five (Vonnegut, #2) and 1984 (Orwell, #3). Horror is topped by King's Song of Susannah.
What's interesting to me is that Wicked scores in the Kindle Store's overall top 150. The two sf classics are in the top 300. The King book at the top of horror comes in at only #640 overall.
I'll be keeping my eye on how these trends develop.
Three of the top five leaders in science fiction are sf video game tie-ins (Halo and Mass Effect). The remaining top five include Slaughterhouse Five (Vonnegut, #2) and 1984 (Orwell, #3). Horror is topped by King's Song of Susannah.
What's interesting to me is that Wicked scores in the Kindle Store's overall top 150. The two sf classics are in the top 300. The King book at the top of horror comes in at only #640 overall.
I'll be keeping my eye on how these trends develop.
Monday, November 26, 2007
The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West

This autumn I can't walk in New York without bumping into some reference to the Wizard of Oz. On Halloween the whole staff of our local bakery dressed as Dorothy and company (the blue grease painted Munchkin was especially impressive). Bus stops in Manhattan are plastered with notices of the Sci Fi Channel's premiere of Tin Man this Sunday. Approachig Times Square, I was overwhelmed by the amount of advertising for the musical Wicked, based on Gregory Maguire's book of the same name (although last week's New York performances weren't held due to the stagehand strike).
There was no question why I suddenly had the urge to read Wicked, the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. The reminders of my childhood days in Oz were too in my face to be subliminal.
What I admire most about Maguire's book is its dramatic structure. If a creative writing teacher asked Maguire what his protagonist wanted, I know he could answer in a heartbeat: the Wicked Witch of the West wants forgiveness.
Forgiveness for what? Plaguing Dorothy? No, no. All that Dorothy business comes late in the book- perfectly timed to synchronize events from Baum's well-known tale to the thrilling end of the Witch's personal story. Wicked begins before the Witch's birth, and describes an Oz quite different, I think, from the one Baum envisioned. Yet Maguire selects a few haunting aspects of Baum's mythology, the tiktok mechanical creatures, the ruby slippers, talking animals- and uses them as conduits between his created universe and Baum's.
The question still stands: the Witch wants forgiveness for what? Well, that's kind of the point of the story, getting inside the Witch's oiled green skin and finding and losing sympathy with her as she finds and loses sympathy for herself.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Kindling the revolution of reading

The largest bookstore in the world has announced its own eBook reader, the Amazon Kindle. More than just a device, the Kindle is supported by a huge (and growing) catalog of eBook titles, and by the Whispernet wireless network. Amazon pays your Whispernet connection, allowing you to free wireless shopping and downloading of for-purchase content. Oh, and they threw in free wireless access to Wikipedia, too.
My first glance at the Kindle gave me a tickle in my stomach- I had the sense this was more than a cool gadget, it was a glimpse at the future of how writers get content to readers. Newsweek enthusiastically agreed with me about the Kindle's potential, and as I read Steven Levy's "The Future of Reading" I got more and more excited. Projecting from current trends in blogging and digital media, Levy envisions a future when the book is liberated from its cover. The possibilities are intriguing, and many of them point at changing the role of the author.
Imagine a book that could be instantly updated or corrected- or revised by the author based on reader feedback. Levy predicts serialized novelization (alla Dickens and King's Green Mile)- except that readers would be able to interact with the author in between installments. This situation would create a collaborative environment where the author is no longer master of the universe, but guide through a participatory adventure.
Levy also extrapolates the role of the Kindle's digital annotation system. If readers can upload and share their annotations overlaid on the text of a book, annotations become a forum for disagreeing with the author, whether for fun, or to pose serious political protest. And one of my thoughts based on this model, what about using annotations to create derivative works of art (kind of like playing The Wizard of Oz to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon) or as a new form of fan fiction?
In one more possible affront to the omnipotence of the author, Levy points out that the Kindle is always connected, always online and ready to connect to other books (not to mention Wikipedia). So if the reader questions something the author wrote, or simply wants a different perspective from another writer, he is just a few seconds' download away from having another author's take at his fingertips.
Will the Kindle ignite a brave new world of authorship and publishing? I can't wait to find out.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Stranger in a Familiar Land
Whenever anyone asks me my favorite science fiction author, I reply: Heinlein. This gets mixed reactions: from understanding approval to poorly hidden disgust. Heinlein seems to evoke strong love or hate emotions in his readers.
But love or hate, most of my interlocutors can't mention Heinlein without talking about Stranger in a Strange Land- a book I have never read because it couldn't hold my interest past the first few chapters.
On a quest to understand whether or not books whose first chapters don't grab me are or are not worth reading (see my post Stardust in our eyes), I picked up Stranger in a Strange Land. I muscled through the first several chapters, and read through to the end.
The result of the experiment was clear. My feelings toward the book softened a little as I continued to read, got to know the characters and situations better, and to recognize certain Heinlein characteristics that I've come to know and love. But I never felt a fraction of the warmth toward the book that I did toward Heinlein's Friday (read five times and counting), The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, To Sail Beyond the Sunset, The Number of the Beast or the adventurous sf Heinlein books geared toward children.
The first few chapters of Stranger in a Strange Land didn't grab me, and neither did the rest of the book.
Friday, October 26, 2007
How to earn $40 for reading science fiction and fantasy
Today I got a surprise check in the mail. I had completely forgotten that, a few weeks ago when I had jury duty, the county was obliged to pay me for a day of warming a bucket seat chair and reading The New Yorker and the July 2007 issue of Fantasy & Science Fiction. Hey, if you thought it was likely you'd leave your reading material behind on a park bench or subway car, you'd take an old issue with you, too.
My big civic participation day began by watching a video, taking an hour to fill out a form I had already filled out at home, then doing a lot of waiting. I read about a new stamp commemorating jury duty in The New Yorker, feted by a shindig whose celebrity attendants had never served. Then I opened up F&SF and started the first story- "Daughters of Prime" by Lawrence C. Connolly.
It was awful. I found myself reading the same sentences over and over again. I couldn't concentrate. The story just didn't interest me. Was I really that nervous about hearing my name called? Had the juror's video dramatizing trial by drowning in the middle ages dulled my appetite for fiction?
Next came the book columns, De Lint's "Books to Look For" and "Books" by Elizabeth Hand. I was reasonable engaged, enthused about checking out one or two books. So, I could still read, just not fiction.
I turned the page and landed right in "Stars Seen Through Stone" by Lucius Shepard, and I was reminded what speculative fiction is supposed to be: fun, engaging, the kind of story that made me turn pages and even laugh out loud, much to the disconcertment of the jurors on either side of me.
I went back to look at why one of these stories couldn't hold my attention, while the other was so thoroughly engaging.
Connolly's "Daughter of Prime" was all about time: how long would the protagonist live before her successor took over her work? The big mysterious engine running the heart of the story was, in essence, about time. Had the protagonist been expected to arrive on this foreign planet for generations? The problem was, I really didn't care about the protagnist's fate or the fate of the natives on the planet. I just didn't know enough about them to care.
Shepard's story was all about a community. Black William, PA was a small town with an intriguing past. Shepard built the town using solid geography- I could almost draw a map showing where the library, pub, mill, spooky statue, and Chinese restaurant were located. There wasn't space in the story to know everyone in town, but we did get to know the protagonist, his ex-girlfriend, his best friend, and a creepy outsider staying at the protagonist's house. The story was so realistic, that when weird stuff began to happen, it actually gave me the chills.
Or maybe it was just the A/C in the juror's waiting room.
My big civic participation day began by watching a video, taking an hour to fill out a form I had already filled out at home, then doing a lot of waiting. I read about a new stamp commemorating jury duty in The New Yorker, feted by a shindig whose celebrity attendants had never served. Then I opened up F&SF and started the first story- "Daughters of Prime" by Lawrence C. Connolly.
It was awful. I found myself reading the same sentences over and over again. I couldn't concentrate. The story just didn't interest me. Was I really that nervous about hearing my name called? Had the juror's video dramatizing trial by drowning in the middle ages dulled my appetite for fiction?
Next came the book columns, De Lint's "Books to Look For" and "Books" by Elizabeth Hand. I was reasonable engaged, enthused about checking out one or two books. So, I could still read, just not fiction.
I turned the page and landed right in "Stars Seen Through Stone" by Lucius Shepard, and I was reminded what speculative fiction is supposed to be: fun, engaging, the kind of story that made me turn pages and even laugh out loud, much to the disconcertment of the jurors on either side of me.
I went back to look at why one of these stories couldn't hold my attention, while the other was so thoroughly engaging.
Connolly's "Daughter of Prime" was all about time: how long would the protagonist live before her successor took over her work? The big mysterious engine running the heart of the story was, in essence, about time. Had the protagonist been expected to arrive on this foreign planet for generations? The problem was, I really didn't care about the protagnist's fate or the fate of the natives on the planet. I just didn't know enough about them to care.
Shepard's story was all about a community. Black William, PA was a small town with an intriguing past. Shepard built the town using solid geography- I could almost draw a map showing where the library, pub, mill, spooky statue, and Chinese restaurant were located. There wasn't space in the story to know everyone in town, but we did get to know the protagonist, his ex-girlfriend, his best friend, and a creepy outsider staying at the protagonist's house. The story was so realistic, that when weird stuff began to happen, it actually gave me the chills.
Or maybe it was just the A/C in the juror's waiting room.
Friday, October 05, 2007
The Maltese Falcon
Dashiell Hammett made a founding contribution to the hard-boiled detective genre with his 1930 novel, the Maltese Falcon. I've carried around the title of the book in my head, along with the image of a femme fatale sashaying into a run-down detective's office, but had never read the book until this week.
A close look at the genre conventions shows that protagonist, Sam Spade, has all the ingredients of a hard-boiled detective. What I found more interesting than the particulars of the detective conventions, was Hammett's narrative voice.
Hammett's narrator was like a movie camera. The narrator never penetrated Sam Spade's tough armor to pierce through to his inner thoughts and feelings. Everything was reported as though a court stenographer was witnessing it and writing it down- except that every single surface detail Hammett chose to report was carefully selected, meant to color our view of the events and characters.
At first I was put off by this style. Why the heck should I care about the angle of Sam Spade's head as he rolled his cigarette? Descriptions of femme fatale, Brigid O'Shaughnessy, bordered on the teenage obsessive, reporting each twitch of her lips, lean of her head, and minute gesture.
But when the author refuses to let the reader into a single thought or feeling of any character, and the narrative voice is as neutral as a black and white photo, the only means of expressing character is through dialog and action. All the minute details of how cigarettes were smoked, coffee drunk, and eggs eaten, add up to build a character.
This approach to characterization makes the reader experience the same sense of ambiguity as the characters in the story- the reader feels at once as though they know Sam Spade and Brigid O'Shaughnessy very well, and at the same time, wouldn't want to bet their lives on what either character will do next.
However, Sam and Brigid are betting their lives on how well they understand each other's character and motivation. It is this suspense, not the particulars of the mystery, that powers the captivating tale of the Maltese Falcon.
A close look at the genre conventions shows that protagonist, Sam Spade, has all the ingredients of a hard-boiled detective. What I found more interesting than the particulars of the detective conventions, was Hammett's narrative voice.
Hammett's narrator was like a movie camera. The narrator never penetrated Sam Spade's tough armor to pierce through to his inner thoughts and feelings. Everything was reported as though a court stenographer was witnessing it and writing it down- except that every single surface detail Hammett chose to report was carefully selected, meant to color our view of the events and characters.
At first I was put off by this style. Why the heck should I care about the angle of Sam Spade's head as he rolled his cigarette? Descriptions of femme fatale, Brigid O'Shaughnessy, bordered on the teenage obsessive, reporting each twitch of her lips, lean of her head, and minute gesture.
But when the author refuses to let the reader into a single thought or feeling of any character, and the narrative voice is as neutral as a black and white photo, the only means of expressing character is through dialog and action. All the minute details of how cigarettes were smoked, coffee drunk, and eggs eaten, add up to build a character.
This approach to characterization makes the reader experience the same sense of ambiguity as the characters in the story- the reader feels at once as though they know Sam Spade and Brigid O'Shaughnessy very well, and at the same time, wouldn't want to bet their lives on what either character will do next.
However, Sam and Brigid are betting their lives on how well they understand each other's character and motivation. It is this suspense, not the particulars of the mystery, that powers the captivating tale of the Maltese Falcon.
Friday, September 28, 2007
The Devil in the White City

When I was growing up in Iowa, Chicago was "The City," a place of wonder, with museums, exotic animals, musicals, and skyscrapers. All the best field trips and family vacations took me to Chicago. I saw Phantom of the Opera at the Auditorium Theater, went up to the top of the Sears Tower, saw my very first dinosaur skeletons at the Field Museum and marveled at the creatures of the deep at the Field Aquarium. I saw Picasso for the very first time at the Art Institute of Chicago, and went to an exhibition that introduced me to Monet. It might sound funny, but my first sight of water that stretched to the horizon was Lake Michigan in downtown Chicago. The boats and the infinity of the water made a huge impression on me. And, did I forget to mention the zoo?
So maybe that's why I enjoyed Erik Larson's The Devil in the White City so much. Sure, there were people burned alive in kilns, some graphic dissections, and a taste of the body snatching trade to appeal to my spec fiction sensibilities, but what really kept me reading Larson's book was the architecture. The book recounts the events that led up to the Chicago World's Fair of 1893, and along the way, the history of the architects who designed and built the fair's famous White City. Some readers may thrill at the mention of the first Ferris Wheel, but I got goosebumps hearing about how the Auditorium Theater was built, and how landscape architect, Frederick Olmstead (who also designed Central Park in New York), chose Andrew Jackson Park as the site for the World's Fair, because it looked over Lake Michigan, the best view in Chicago.
The Devil in the White City showed the Chicago of the 1890's for what it was- a filthy urban center based on the meat packing industry. How could a city of butchers that built its suburbs upwind of the stockyards and whose garbage-strewn streets bred cholera transform itself into the host of the spectacular World's Colombian Exhibition? Larson takes us step by step through the transformation of the fairgrounds and the city. He contrasts this move toward the modern, the civilized, the striving toward establishing culture in the Midwest, with the brutal acts of a serial killer who dwelt and killed in Chicago as the White City rose up, then burned down.
The 1893 Chicago World's fair is coming up in a lot of my reading lately- Sarah Vowell's books, as well as Against the Day by Thomas Pynchon. It was a lot of fun to delve more deeply into this historic event.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Flash Gordon SciFi Pilot

Since the SciFi network had a hand in creating Farscape and Battlestar Galactica, I decided to give their remake of Flash Gordon a try (despite the channel's constant and annoying promos for shows about people who see ghosts).
A Flash virgin, I knew nothing about the original series except that it was supposed to be campy sci fi pulp. So I went into the pilot episode of the remake expecting campy served with a big spoon.
The pilot episode ended up being part camp, part cheese. Before I launch into the series' faults, let me say that it was far better than I expected- and I was interested enough to stick with it until the end of the show.
The world of Flash Gordon has two components: the real-world, modern-day America, and the fantasy world to which Flash travels. The fantasy world was rendered in a TV equivalent of pulp comics. Unfortunately the real world was made of the same flimsy cardboard cutouts as the fantasy world- making the stakes of Flash's success or failure lackluster.
I wasn't looking for remarkable depth from the characters in the series, but it would have been nice if casting had chosen three leading ladies I could tell apart. Brave heroine or evil minx, all Flash's potential love interests looked exactly the same.
Pacing was also an issue. I'm willing to cut some slack in a pilot episode, since it's not easy to create an entire series set up in one hour. However, far too often plot was advanced through dialog. The old writer's adage "show, don't tell" seems especially important in visual media like television and film.
Flash Gordon came close to being the tasty junk food of sci fi TV veg-out, but lacked the hooks needed to keep me coming back for more.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
What's missing in the French rentrée littéraire
This afternoon I threw together a Niçoise salad, bought a fresh baguette, and got my gruyère and grapes ready to go. I logged onto amazon.fr, and checked out the 2007 offerings for the rentrée littéraire.
The rentrée refers to the nationwide phenomenon of the French returning home from their long August holidays. The rentrée littéraire takes place throughout the month of September. Publishing houses release their most anticipated books from their most celebrated authors. Books released in September are fresh in judges' minds when it comes time to award coveted literary prizes, such as the Prix Goncourt.
As I scanned the new releases for September 2007, I couldn't help but notice a large number of novels whose plot revolved around an author who mysteriously disappears. Editors, journalists, and other literary professionals much search for the missing author finding, not only the man, but the essence of his work.
Disappearance is a big theme in the 2007 rentrée littéraire. Whether the subject is missing authors (Le Livreur, Les romans n'interessent pas les voleurs), the disappearance of Jewish writer David Mendelsohn's family in 1941 Nazi-occupied Poland (The Lost: A Search for Six of Six Million ), or an Alzheimer's sufferer who no one sees (On n'est pas là pour disparaître), the idea of disappearance shows up again and again.
As you may have noticed from the Mendelsohn autobiography, the rentrée littéraire is far from an exclusively French affair. I noticed a new book by one of my favorite Italian authors, Andrea Camilleri, translated into French. Talk Talk, T.C. Boyle's 2006 English release, has also been translated and is featured in the rentrée littéraire. When the prizes are awarded later this year, most have a special category for foreign authors translated into French.
One 2007 appearance I very much anticipated didn't disappoint. Amelie Nothomb's latest book, Ni d'Eve ni d'Adam, will be making its way to me across the Atalantic soon. There's nothing like reading a Belgian author write in French about her affair in Tokyo. (Here is my post on Nothomb's 2006 contribution to the rentrée littéraire)
The rentrée refers to the nationwide phenomenon of the French returning home from their long August holidays. The rentrée littéraire takes place throughout the month of September. Publishing houses release their most anticipated books from their most celebrated authors. Books released in September are fresh in judges' minds when it comes time to award coveted literary prizes, such as the Prix Goncourt.
As I scanned the new releases for September 2007, I couldn't help but notice a large number of novels whose plot revolved around an author who mysteriously disappears. Editors, journalists, and other literary professionals much search for the missing author finding, not only the man, but the essence of his work.
Disappearance is a big theme in the 2007 rentrée littéraire. Whether the subject is missing authors (Le Livreur, Les romans n'interessent pas les voleurs), the disappearance of Jewish writer David Mendelsohn's family in 1941 Nazi-occupied Poland (The Lost: A Search for Six of Six Million ), or an Alzheimer's sufferer who no one sees (On n'est pas là pour disparaître), the idea of disappearance shows up again and again.
As you may have noticed from the Mendelsohn autobiography, the rentrée littéraire is far from an exclusively French affair. I noticed a new book by one of my favorite Italian authors, Andrea Camilleri, translated into French. Talk Talk, T.C. Boyle's 2006 English release, has also been translated and is featured in the rentrée littéraire. When the prizes are awarded later this year, most have a special category for foreign authors translated into French.
One 2007 appearance I very much anticipated didn't disappoint. Amelie Nothomb's latest book, Ni d'Eve ni d'Adam, will be making its way to me across the Atalantic soon. There's nothing like reading a Belgian author write in French about her affair in Tokyo. (Here is my post on Nothomb's 2006 contribution to the rentrée littéraire)
Monday, September 17, 2007
The wheel weaves as the wheel wills
Fantasy author Robert Jordan died yesterday afternoon. He saw eleven of the twelve books of his bestselling fantasy series, The Wheel of Time, published before his death.
There is a lot of speculation about what will happen with the final book in the series (working title, Memory of Light). As you might expect, wikipedia.org has all the latest details of Jordan's death and what is known about the final manuscript in the series- while Tor's website lists the author as available for interviews on a variety of fantasy-related subjects. Jordan's official blog is down.
At news of Jordan's death, I saw lots of discussion about the worth of his series. I'll repeat now what I've said to many spec fiction fans who love or hate Jordan: like his character, Thom Merrilin, Robert Jordan was a gleeman- part storyteller, part entertainer. His narrative style in The Wheel of Time had more in common with the technique of ancient storytellers than the modern- he made use of repetition, a sprawling cast of characters, and the larger-than-life canvass of a detailed magical world to tell his tale. The books in his series aren't meant to be read as individual literary treasures, but as live entertainment. People and places readers have come to know and love come to life in intricate situations that Jordan juggled like his minstrel predecessors juggled bottles and balls.
To delve into The Wheel of Time is to curl up with a full belly, grease dripping down our chins, and watch the performer's shadow cast by flickering torches on a damp stone wall. The shadow shivers and grows into a story that becomes a part of our experience. The power of the tale doesn't come from language, pacing, or anything typically found in the writer's toolkit: the power is raw, unadulterated story.
I wish the gleeman was still around to finish the tale.
There is a lot of speculation about what will happen with the final book in the series (working title, Memory of Light). As you might expect, wikipedia.org has all the latest details of Jordan's death and what is known about the final manuscript in the series- while Tor's website lists the author as available for interviews on a variety of fantasy-related subjects. Jordan's official blog is down.
At news of Jordan's death, I saw lots of discussion about the worth of his series. I'll repeat now what I've said to many spec fiction fans who love or hate Jordan: like his character, Thom Merrilin, Robert Jordan was a gleeman- part storyteller, part entertainer. His narrative style in The Wheel of Time had more in common with the technique of ancient storytellers than the modern- he made use of repetition, a sprawling cast of characters, and the larger-than-life canvass of a detailed magical world to tell his tale. The books in his series aren't meant to be read as individual literary treasures, but as live entertainment. People and places readers have come to know and love come to life in intricate situations that Jordan juggled like his minstrel predecessors juggled bottles and balls.
To delve into The Wheel of Time is to curl up with a full belly, grease dripping down our chins, and watch the performer's shadow cast by flickering torches on a damp stone wall. The shadow shivers and grows into a story that becomes a part of our experience. The power of the tale doesn't come from language, pacing, or anything typically found in the writer's toolkit: the power is raw, unadulterated story.
I wish the gleeman was still around to finish the tale.
The Partly Cloudy Patriot

The Partly Cloudy Patriot covers Vowell's thoughts from the Bush-Gore campaign through the aftermath of September 11th. She renders this very un-funny period of American history in a series of humorous essays that explore her family, friends, and personal history.
In an essay called "The Nerd Voice" Vowell theorizes that Al Gore would have had a better shot at getting elected if he'd hired Buffy the Vampire Slayer creator, Joss Whedon, to write his campaign speeches. Vowell defines herself as a "post modern nerd-" that is, a nerd who has learned to be endearing to non-nerds through the art of self-deprecation. She cites Whedon's character, Willow, as the ideal post modern nerd, and asks if a dose of self-deprecation to squash the media's know-it-all perception of Gore might have given him enough of a landslide to take the presidency.
In another essay Vowell talks about going to Bush's inauguration. She cried. She also insisted on singing the national anthem as loudly as she could- even when the protesters all around her refused to sing. That is, in essence, The Partly Cloudy Patriot. It is Sarah Vowell expressing her genuine care for her country by both loving and criticizing it.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Michael Palin's Himalaya

When I read Sarah Vowell's Assassination Vacation, I had such a good time listening to an audio book narrated by its author that I picked up Michael Palin's account of his journey through the Himalayas. The former Python's travel log wasn't half as interesting as Vowell's trips to sleepy small towns and historic home tours. One thing I can say for Himalaya, is that it got better the more Palin read.
Palin's attempts to paint the scenery of his travels were well meant, but poorly executed. "Lugubrious" may score well in a game of scrabble, but using it to describe a train whistle results in purple prose.
Another detractor was Palin's focus on the tourist aspect of travel- bars, restaurants, hotels, cars, itineraries, and bathrooms. I'd have rather heard more about Palin's interesting experiences than reminiscences involving a former trip to Africa and his use of Imodium.
That said, Palin had several shining advantages over the many British tourists I met in Italy, that made the book a pleasure to read despite the purple prose and tourist's woes:
1. He had a genuine enthusiasm for the places he traveled, and felt real joy at the opportunity to see the sights of the Himalayas and to get to meet the people.
2. Palin's fame as a comedian allowed a special kind of interaction between himself and the locals that a regular tourist just can't experience. It was delightful to listen to how folks from Pakistan to Bangladesh reacted to his presence.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Probability Moon

My copy of Probability Moon is a First Edition July 2000 stamped WITHDRAWN from the Palmyra Town Library. I picked it up in a used book store in Palmyra in the summer of 2005.
Why did Probability Moon get such a short shelf life?
The answer was clear in the first few chapters of the book: the beginning of Probability Moon stinks. As it happens, Kress's Beggars in Spain is on my top ten favorite science fiction books of all time. So, I slogged through the awkward space-tech info dump, the stock characters on the space ship bridge, the introduction to an alien world where the entire society seemed trivial and immature.
Recently (see Stardust in our eyes) I cited a bad opening as the reason I can't seem to read Neil Gaiman's Stardust. So why did I not only read all of Probability Moon, but enjoy it? I was hooked the moment that Syree, the stock military smart chick, expressed her first weakness.
See, Syree lost a leg in battle. They army grew her a new leg, cloned on the "skinless back of a permanently immobilized dog without an immune system. The dog was the problem. Syree could not get the dog out of her mind. She found she could not- could not- put her full weight on her left leg." Syree's limp ended her army career, and began my fascination with Probability Moon.
Probability Moon got better and better as it neared its exciting conclusion, and all that info dump at the beginning paid off in a satisfying ending that successfully married science with story. However, Kress's info dump habit never got any better. Up until the last, I felt like there were jolting moments of "As you know Bob" and similar Turkey City Lexicon violations.
Monday, September 03, 2007
The Harry Potter Summer in NYC
As summertime comes to a close this Labor Day weekend, and friends and family report with bittersweet satisfaction that they've finally finished The Deathly Hallows, I got a little nostalgic, myself, and thought back on what I've come to think of as the summer of Harry Potter.
Harry Potter anticipation stirred all summer long. When I ordered my Order of the Phoenix movie tickets online, there were already dozens of reviews of the film- by people who hadn't seen it, but were just so excited that they had to give it five stars. A similar phenomenon occurred on iTunes- we eagerly downloaded a five star rated Order of the Phoenix soundtrack touted as the "best of the Harry Potter soundtracks" only to find that it was by far the worst.
But the first truly exciting Harry Potter event came July 11th with the opening of the The Order of the Phoenix. We went to see the movie at Loews Lincoln Square- a short walk from the Lincoln Center of the Performing Arts in Manhattan. As we exited the theater, a man who hadn't seen the movie called out to my husband,
"Was it any good?"
Good question. The Order of the Phoenix certainly wasn't bad. It felt like a visual highlight tour of the book, which is fine for dedicated fans, but seemed a little shallow when the movie stands alone.
All the Harry Potter films suffer from the fact that the books have hundreds of pages to express the passage of time, the rhythm of the school year and the seasons, and the frustration that builds as time passes, and Harry and his friends seemingly make no progress toward their goal. That said, some Harry Potter movies have translated to film better than others.
My favorite of the six movies is The Prisoner of Azkaban. What I like about the third Harry Potter movie is the way it handles time. A huge pendulum clock and gears dominates the movie's set. A major theme of The Prisoner of Azkaban is time, and the movie makes an exciting sequence out of Harry and Hermione's challenge to go back and change the past.
The 2007 The Order of the Phoenix was the first time my throat didn't catch when William's leitmotif, "A Change of Seasons," was used to mark the passage of time. Director David Yates didn't know how to use the music- not that he had much to work with. As I said, the soundtrack wasn't so hot- it was flat, generic movie music that I wouldn't have known belonged to the Harry Potter universe without the track info.
My husband gave the expectant movie-goer outside Loews' an "above average" rating (given in his charming New Yorkese). Our questioner immediately asked:
"But I heard it was all talk, no action!"
This comment stunned us- we'd been struck by the fact that The Order of the Phoenix was an intense action experience. We heard this "all talk, no action" meme on the street, in the subway, pretty much wherever we went. Somebody had gotten the idea there was a scene between Harry and Dumbledore with too much exposition, and had cast the entire film as talking heads.
Ten days after the opening of the movie, the seventh and final volume in the Harry Potter series arrived at our door by priority mail. The USPS box containing the book had been specially printed to accommodate the huge Amazon.com Book 7 pre-order turnout.
For the seventh time, my husband and I sat down and began the Harry Potter adventure together. He probably deserves a purple heart for the damage to his vocal chords. We finished about a week after the book came to our door, at two in the morning. The ending was so intense, we wouldn't have slept if we didn't see Harry and his friends through to the end.
A lot of interesting stuff happened this summer: Live Earth Concerts for a Climate in Crisis, the release of the iPhone. But I'll always remember summer of 2007 as the Harry Potter summer, and picture the photo in The New York Daily News- a whole row of commuters on the subway, noses buried The Deathly Hallows.
Harry Potter anticipation stirred all summer long. When I ordered my Order of the Phoenix movie tickets online, there were already dozens of reviews of the film- by people who hadn't seen it, but were just so excited that they had to give it five stars. A similar phenomenon occurred on iTunes- we eagerly downloaded a five star rated Order of the Phoenix soundtrack touted as the "best of the Harry Potter soundtracks" only to find that it was by far the worst.
But the first truly exciting Harry Potter event came July 11th with the opening of the The Order of the Phoenix. We went to see the movie at Loews Lincoln Square- a short walk from the Lincoln Center of the Performing Arts in Manhattan. As we exited the theater, a man who hadn't seen the movie called out to my husband,
"Was it any good?"
Good question. The Order of the Phoenix certainly wasn't bad. It felt like a visual highlight tour of the book, which is fine for dedicated fans, but seemed a little shallow when the movie stands alone.
All the Harry Potter films suffer from the fact that the books have hundreds of pages to express the passage of time, the rhythm of the school year and the seasons, and the frustration that builds as time passes, and Harry and his friends seemingly make no progress toward their goal. That said, some Harry Potter movies have translated to film better than others.
My favorite of the six movies is The Prisoner of Azkaban. What I like about the third Harry Potter movie is the way it handles time. A huge pendulum clock and gears dominates the movie's set. A major theme of The Prisoner of Azkaban is time, and the movie makes an exciting sequence out of Harry and Hermione's challenge to go back and change the past.
The 2007 The Order of the Phoenix was the first time my throat didn't catch when William's leitmotif, "A Change of Seasons," was used to mark the passage of time. Director David Yates didn't know how to use the music- not that he had much to work with. As I said, the soundtrack wasn't so hot- it was flat, generic movie music that I wouldn't have known belonged to the Harry Potter universe without the track info.
My husband gave the expectant movie-goer outside Loews' an "above average" rating (given in his charming New Yorkese). Our questioner immediately asked:
"But I heard it was all talk, no action!"
This comment stunned us- we'd been struck by the fact that The Order of the Phoenix was an intense action experience. We heard this "all talk, no action" meme on the street, in the subway, pretty much wherever we went. Somebody had gotten the idea there was a scene between Harry and Dumbledore with too much exposition, and had cast the entire film as talking heads.
Ten days after the opening of the movie, the seventh and final volume in the Harry Potter series arrived at our door by priority mail. The USPS box containing the book had been specially printed to accommodate the huge Amazon.com Book 7 pre-order turnout.
For the seventh time, my husband and I sat down and began the Harry Potter adventure together. He probably deserves a purple heart for the damage to his vocal chords. We finished about a week after the book came to our door, at two in the morning. The ending was so intense, we wouldn't have slept if we didn't see Harry and his friends through to the end.
A lot of interesting stuff happened this summer: Live Earth Concerts for a Climate in Crisis, the release of the iPhone. But I'll always remember summer of 2007 as the Harry Potter summer, and picture the photo in The New York Daily News- a whole row of commuters on the subway, noses buried The Deathly Hallows.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Assassination Vacation

Warning: reading this book could cause sudden and intense interest in President Garfield's commitment to civil service reform, and in weighing brains scooped out of skulls.
I first encountered Sarah Vowell watching the documentary of one of my husband's favorite bands: They Might be Giants. As she mentions in Assassination Vacation, Vowell used to work as a music critic. What I remember about Vowell from the documentary, was her precise voice, self-effacing and side-splitting dry humor, and the fact that she had an awful lot of busts of Lincoln in her house.
So I started the audio book edition of Assassination Vacation because Sarah Vowell had not only written it, she was reading it, too (guest voice actors also include Jon Stewart, Conan O'Brien, and Stephen King, who plays Lincoln). I had so little interest in the period of American history between the Civil War and Roosevelt that I was relieved to hear Vowell begin her book with an enumeration of the things that make her uncomfortable when staying at a Bed and Breakfast.
Assassination Vacation is the story of Vowell's almost autistic devotion to visiting historical landmarks related to presidents Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley, and the men who killed them.
Vowell puts forth the interesting thesis that the articles kept on display at museums and historical sites are the American answer to relics. She is fascinated by the way history has handed down the personal items and sometimes pickled body parts of both the martyred presidents and their assassins.
Like me, Vowell is a New Yorker who never feels the handicap of having no driver's license until she leaves the city. Having expected all her visits to take place in D.C., Maryland, and Springfield, Illinois, I was tickled by the number of relevant landmarks she visited right here in NYC. When she does venture away from the subway, Vowell is obliged to bring friends and family to chauffeur, and their presence provides a repeating cast of amusing characters. And the author's true love of historical plaques and tour guides is endearing.
But, most important, Vowell has has a special talent for making things that happened a long time ago seem comprehensible and relevant to modern audiences. The parallels she draws between current and historical events really do make history come alive.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
William Shatner speaks Esperanto and the Curse of Incubus

For the past two years my husband and I have gone on Esperanto learning kicks over the summer. This year we had enough of the language under our belts to start having fun. We ordered a book of poetry in Esperanto, downloaded some songs from iTunes in the language, and we even found a film spoken entirely in Esperanto!
The film is called Incubus. Made in 1965, Incubus falls somewhere between a guilty-pleasure B horror flick and an Ingmar Bergman Cries and Whispers or The Seventh Seal. The plot of this movie isn't nearly as important as the emotion and symbology conveyed by the cinematography- which the film can express much better than I can. There has been a lot of discussion about William Shatner's pronunciation of Esperanto- which he learned expressly for the film in a matter of weeks.
But what I'm really interested in is the curse. The special features of the Incubus DVD made a convincing case for the Incubus Curse. Wikipedia did a good job of enumerating the incidents, too.
1. The pure young woman threatened with rape by evil was played by Ann Atmar, who committed suicide a few weeks after the film wrapped.
2. The spooky, creepy bad guy in the film was played by Milos Milos. About a year after the film was shot, Milos shot his girlfriend, then himself.
3. One of the female "bad guys" was played by Eloise Hardt. Her daughter was later kidnapped and murdered.
4. In 1993 Consolidated Film Industries reported that the only print and all negatives of the film had been lost in a fire.
To listen to the film's producer, Anthony Taylor, describe the incident, he was crushed when he learned the last surviving print of Incubus was destroyed. Several years later, Taylor's friend happened across a battered and forgotten version of the film (subtitled in French) at the Cinematique Francaise in Paris. The print was in awful shape, and it took international cooperation, modern technology, Taylor's passion to revive the film, and funds and promotion from the Sci-Fi Channel to bring the light and shadow, the love and hate, the purity and corruption of Incubus to a new generation of spec fic fans.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Consumed by the Consumed One

The Tombs of Atuan by Ursula K. LeGuin was one of those books I literally couldn't put down. Dishes sat piled in the sink while my after dinner treat stretched from one chapter to two... then three, four.
Arha, the "Eaten One" is the virgin priestess of the Nameless Ones. Her family, her name, her childhood, was consumed by the Nameless Ones, and she is in service to protect the sanctity of their eternally dark, labyrinthine tombs. When a man violates Arha's dark cave with his magical light, her journey toward womanhood begins- a journey that will end either in enlightenment, or a life lost in the tortuous underground passages.
The Tombs of Atuan is the second of LeGuin's Earthsea Trilogy (my review of the first in the series, A Wizard of Earthsea, is here). LeGuin develops aspects of the Earthsea universe only tauntingly touched upon in A Wizard of Earthsea. We follow the story through Arha's eyes, a very different protagonist than LeGuin's Ged of the first novel. It is only as the action begins to rise that we meet our old friend, and it's pretty cool to meet Ged through Arha's eyes.
LeGuin's writing is noticeably more powerful in this second installment. The reader moves through her world in beautifully selected detail. The feel of the desert wind is still on my skin, the smell of stale and decay in a sealed treasure trove, the wonder of the scene Arha beholds when light touches the Tombs of Atuan for the very first time.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Fancy hearing cake

My search for a manga series as fun to read as Full Metal Panic led me to Azumanga Daioh, and a group of silly, yet endearing high school girls. The series has four volumes- one for each year of the girls' high school experience, alla Harry Potter. But there are no wizards or giant robots in the four-panel sketches that giggle down the page from right to left. I was first disappointed that the manga contained no speculative element. As I turned the pages, I grew to enjoy Chiyo-Chan's perky piggy tails, Osaka's wide-eyed daydream stare, Miss Sakaki's desperate wish to have a cat, despite the fact that every cat she meets tries to bite her. But as the vignettes of the lives of ordinary high school girls unfolded, a little fantasy found its way into the series.
Call them dreams (daydreams in Osaka's case) if you like, but the fantastic experiences met in sleep bleed into the girls' daytime consciousness. Osaka becomes convinced that Chiyo-Chan's piggy tails allow her to fly, and are trying to control her. Miss Sakaki dreams that Chiyo-Chan's father is a Tanuki-type furry Japanese guardian spirit. The animal-loving Sakaki sews stuffed animals that look like the guardian spirit. Sakaki, and soon all the girls, begin to call the stuffed animals "fathers."
Azumanga Daioh isn't speculative fiction. The stories depend on the realistic framework of school life in Japan. But there is a fun thread of imagination that spec fic fans will enjoy. And if that still isn't enough to intrigue you, then you can always try the Azumanga Daioh anime DVD. The theme song to the anime is called "Fancy Hearing Cake" (空耳ケーã‚). I'm actually studying Japanese, and have no idea what a fancy hearing cake might be. If anyone can figure out what it means, let me know.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Lunatics not that crazy

Lunatics by Bradley Denton was an enjoyable read, but it wasn't all that crazy. If anything, it was just a little too safe to be truly satisfying.
Denton is the author of one of the best science fiction books I've ever read (Buddy Holly is Alive and Well on Ganymede). Though it has been years since I read Buddy Holly, the sense of urgency (and the robotic dog) from this novel made a permanent impression on me. I can't say the same for Lunatics.
In Lunatics Denton set up a premise rife with potential for conflict and a deep exploration of what makes human beings tick. His characters are everyday people- a single mother looking for love in all the wrong places, a middle-aged professor who would love to have children, but can't manage to have sex with her husband, and an aging Venus who is frustrated and annoyed with her small business and young boyfriend. Protagonist Jack was once the lover of each of these women back in college, and, remarkably, they've all remained friends. When Jack's wife dies, Jack is distressed and depressed until he meets a new woman. She isn't any ordinary girlfriend- she's a goddess, and she can only meet with Jack when he stands naked under the light of the full moon. The presence of Jack's new girlfriend not only gets him arrested for public nudity, it begins to warp the relationships of Jack's friends and former lovers.
Denton steers away from exploring the dark side of this middle-aged group of friends, and sticks to a Midsummer's Night Dream-type adult fantasy. Jack's moon goddess girlfriend appears to be messing up everyone's lives, but, for me, there was never any doubt her lunatic influence would show all the characters the moonlit road to happiness in the end.
Lunatics tackles some serious subject matter- grief, mortality, jealousy, and loneliness- and asserts that all these grave problems can be solved with a good laugh and a good lay. It is an uplifting, feel-good, and often funny narrative, but lacks the stomach-wrenching tension that really makes me turn the page.
A world built of strings

A marionette stands, dejected, in the falling rain. He bows his head, raises a knife, and cuts his strings- then splashes to the ground, dead. The marionette is the king of Hebalon, and he has just committed suicide in the hope that his son will lead his people toward peace.
Strings is not a fantasy played out by puppets. The fact that the actors are marionettes is vital to the plot, the setting, and the characters. Soldiers kill one another by cutting the string that holds their foe's head. Slaves of war have limbs harvested to replace a vetran's arm or leg, severed from its string in combat. The city gate is just a thin piece of wood that lowers to let welcome travelers in, and need only raise a few feet to block the enemy's strings, and, so, the enemy. The prison is a grid that separates inmates with a lattice, blocking them by their strings from high above their heads. Playing children tangle themselves in each other's strings. The birth of an infant marionette is just something you have to see.
There is no evil puppet master in the film, no unseen god, no hints from above that help or hinder the characters as they struggle. The strings stretch high as the marionettes can see. Above the clouds, where only the audience has eyes, the strings continue upward to infinity. The strings are life and death, freedom and slavery, love and hate. The story would be impossible to tell without the strings. Watch them tangle, watch them fray. Check out Strings.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Stardust in our eyes
In his Saturday blog post, "Why I Like Russia," author Neil Gaiman is happy that the August 10th release of Stardust (based on Gaiman's book of the same name), was number one this weekend in Russian box offices. He's less thrilled with box office numbers in the United States, and notes that the US comprises about 40% of the film's theatrical market.
I am one of the many Americans who made Stardust's box office numbers a little lower this weekend. Although I've heard rumors that the movie's opening wasn't well-advertised in the US, and that even rabid Gaiman fans were unaware of its release, I've known Stardust was coming to the big screen for at least a year. So why wasn't I at the theater, eTicket in hand?
Well, see, I haven't read the book. I started it. I started it twice, in fact. I read Chapter One, set the book down, and didn't pick it up again until I felt I had forgotten the story. As the opening of the movie approached, I picked the book up again, read Chapter One again, and set it back down.
I'm probably missing a fantastic experience. Gaiman's novels, graphic novels, and film collaborations are always lots of fun. Gaiman figures high on my list of favorite fantasy writers. I know Stardust is worth the investment of turning that next page, starting Chapter Two- but Chapter One is so conventional in tone and character. Stardust announces itself as an adult fairy tale, but fails to spark my imagination with the promise of adventure. A young man's first roll in the hay isn't enough to grab me, not even when it takes place at the border of normal life and fairyland. I just haven't been enchanted. I don't have stardust in my eyes.
I am one of the many Americans who made Stardust's box office numbers a little lower this weekend. Although I've heard rumors that the movie's opening wasn't well-advertised in the US, and that even rabid Gaiman fans were unaware of its release, I've known Stardust was coming to the big screen for at least a year. So why wasn't I at the theater, eTicket in hand?
Well, see, I haven't read the book. I started it. I started it twice, in fact. I read Chapter One, set the book down, and didn't pick it up again until I felt I had forgotten the story. As the opening of the movie approached, I picked the book up again, read Chapter One again, and set it back down.
I'm probably missing a fantastic experience. Gaiman's novels, graphic novels, and film collaborations are always lots of fun. Gaiman figures high on my list of favorite fantasy writers. I know Stardust is worth the investment of turning that next page, starting Chapter Two- but Chapter One is so conventional in tone and character. Stardust announces itself as an adult fairy tale, but fails to spark my imagination with the promise of adventure. A young man's first roll in the hay isn't enough to grab me, not even when it takes place at the border of normal life and fairyland. I just haven't been enchanted. I don't have stardust in my eyes.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Whole-isticism, Knowing Enough about Everything
If you own a pet, or have read the front page of any American newspaper since mid-March, you know that there have been massive pet food recalls in the United States due to the use of imported grain proteins in the manufacture of pet food. At first conscientious pet guardians, like me, drew deep sighs of relief for shelling out the extra bucks on premium pet food. As the days and weeks went by, over 100 different brands were effected by the tainted wheat and rice glutens- many of these brands were premium or organic. Recent news articles indicate that adding chemicals to the grain proteins has been common practice for some time- as it is a cheap way to make the protein content appear more elevated than it actually is. In large amounts the added chemical, melamine, causes acute kidney failure in dogs and cats. I'm not sure what it does in smaller doses- but it is safe to say this practice deprives animals of the protein they need to live long, happy, healthy lives.
When several formulas in my premium brand landed on the recall list, I, like thousands of pet lovers, looked for home made options to feed my cat using food deemed safe for human consumption at my local grocery store. But a companion animal can't live on a diet of people food unless it is properly supplemented. I started to sweat- and look for solutions. Holistic pet care, waiting quietly in the corner for over twenty-five years- beckoned me to check it out. Apparently they'd known for years that junk lands in commercial pet food.
Wikipedia says the word "holistic" comes from the Greek root ὅλος- which, from my study of modern Greek, means "all". Holistic health care means looking at all the factors of our lives- the whole person, or the whole cat, as the case may be. Nutrition and environment play big roles in holistic health, as does spiritual and emotional well-being. Holistic health care is usually discussed in connection with homeopathy, chiropracy, yoga, acupuncture- alternative therapies I've used with good results in the past. Holistic health care can also be lumped in with crystal therapy, and people who talk to the dead- giving it, for the newbie uneducated like me, an air of unscientific mysticism.
I'm a science fiction writer. I love science and technology and am unlikely to solve my next headache with a smoky quartz. However, my brief foray into the world of holistic practice shows there is no reason to throw out centuries of wisdom and healthy practices gleaned from a variety of cultures simply because they aren't new, or don't come from the latest issue of Scientific American. I see no incompatibility in a modern lifestyle that takes the benefits of both cutting edge science and holism.
That doesn't mean there aren't drawbacks to holism.
As the word all implies, holism requires the practitioner to know all there is to know about everything. In the case of feeding my cat, I had to learn about bacteria found raw meat, lead accumulation in animal bones, calcium to phosphate ratios, what the heck nutritional yeast was, why kelp is something a sane person would feed to a feline, and how long cat poop has to sit in the litter box before toxoplasmosis becomes a risk.
Holism is more revolutionary that it sounds, because holism requires you to reverse the tide of civilization by becoming an expert in things unrelated to your profession. Since human society separated the hunters from the gatherers, specialization has been the cornerstone of civilization. See- I'm an expert in language and literature, and I normally leave calcium to phosphate ratios to people who make their living producing cat food. The simple act of figuring out what to feed my cat literally took weeks and weeks of study, research and decision making. That's a lot of work- so what do I get out of it?
I get to make my own decisions.
The power of holism is that the practitioner who knows it all can make the best decision for a particular individual. There is no one-size-fits-all treatment- everyone's diet, remedy, environment needs to be tweaked on an individual basis. At first I found this disappointing- I needed somebody to tell me what to feed my cat! The more I researched, the more I liked the idea of making more of my own decisions. When I'm in control of making decisions, I can take the needs of all my family members into account, and design a solution that's right for our special bunch.
For holism to catch on as a future American trend- and as a science fiction writer I see potential that it could- emphasis will have to be efficient, pain-free education of lay clients (like myself) so that they can know enough about everything to make their own decisions about how they live their lives, care for their pets and children, and treat their illnesses. Not only that, an attitude of independent decision making will need to be generated.
Independent thinking- isn't that a hallmark of the USA? Society, especially American society, is geared to accept the opinion of experts, people who have devoted their professional lives to knowing everything about one specific thing. It isn't until trust in those experts is broken (such as has happened with many pet owners and commercial pet food producers), that people exactly like me scramble to find the knowledge they need to know everything about everything- or at least enough about everything. Once that knowledge is obtained, we must find the wisdom needed to make important decisions. Then, once the decision has been carefully made, we need the courage to follow our determined path- with or without the expert's guaranteed seal of approval.
The holistic market today consists of educators and practitioners who have learned to put a leafy green stamp of approval on their treatments and products. What will the holistic educators and practitioners look like tomorrow?
When several formulas in my premium brand landed on the recall list, I, like thousands of pet lovers, looked for home made options to feed my cat using food deemed safe for human consumption at my local grocery store. But a companion animal can't live on a diet of people food unless it is properly supplemented. I started to sweat- and look for solutions. Holistic pet care, waiting quietly in the corner for over twenty-five years- beckoned me to check it out. Apparently they'd known for years that junk lands in commercial pet food.
Wikipedia says the word "holistic" comes from the Greek root ὅλος- which, from my study of modern Greek, means "all". Holistic health care means looking at all the factors of our lives- the whole person, or the whole cat, as the case may be. Nutrition and environment play big roles in holistic health, as does spiritual and emotional well-being. Holistic health care is usually discussed in connection with homeopathy, chiropracy, yoga, acupuncture- alternative therapies I've used with good results in the past. Holistic health care can also be lumped in with crystal therapy, and people who talk to the dead- giving it, for the newbie uneducated like me, an air of unscientific mysticism.
I'm a science fiction writer. I love science and technology and am unlikely to solve my next headache with a smoky quartz. However, my brief foray into the world of holistic practice shows there is no reason to throw out centuries of wisdom and healthy practices gleaned from a variety of cultures simply because they aren't new, or don't come from the latest issue of Scientific American. I see no incompatibility in a modern lifestyle that takes the benefits of both cutting edge science and holism.
That doesn't mean there aren't drawbacks to holism.
As the word all implies, holism requires the practitioner to know all there is to know about everything. In the case of feeding my cat, I had to learn about bacteria found raw meat, lead accumulation in animal bones, calcium to phosphate ratios, what the heck nutritional yeast was, why kelp is something a sane person would feed to a feline, and how long cat poop has to sit in the litter box before toxoplasmosis becomes a risk.
Holism is more revolutionary that it sounds, because holism requires you to reverse the tide of civilization by becoming an expert in things unrelated to your profession. Since human society separated the hunters from the gatherers, specialization has been the cornerstone of civilization. See- I'm an expert in language and literature, and I normally leave calcium to phosphate ratios to people who make their living producing cat food. The simple act of figuring out what to feed my cat literally took weeks and weeks of study, research and decision making. That's a lot of work- so what do I get out of it?
I get to make my own decisions.
The power of holism is that the practitioner who knows it all can make the best decision for a particular individual. There is no one-size-fits-all treatment- everyone's diet, remedy, environment needs to be tweaked on an individual basis. At first I found this disappointing- I needed somebody to tell me what to feed my cat! The more I researched, the more I liked the idea of making more of my own decisions. When I'm in control of making decisions, I can take the needs of all my family members into account, and design a solution that's right for our special bunch.
For holism to catch on as a future American trend- and as a science fiction writer I see potential that it could- emphasis will have to be efficient, pain-free education of lay clients (like myself) so that they can know enough about everything to make their own decisions about how they live their lives, care for their pets and children, and treat their illnesses. Not only that, an attitude of independent decision making will need to be generated.
Independent thinking- isn't that a hallmark of the USA? Society, especially American society, is geared to accept the opinion of experts, people who have devoted their professional lives to knowing everything about one specific thing. It isn't until trust in those experts is broken (such as has happened with many pet owners and commercial pet food producers), that people exactly like me scramble to find the knowledge they need to know everything about everything- or at least enough about everything. Once that knowledge is obtained, we must find the wisdom needed to make important decisions. Then, once the decision has been carefully made, we need the courage to follow our determined path- with or without the expert's guaranteed seal of approval.
The holistic market today consists of educators and practitioners who have learned to put a leafy green stamp of approval on their treatments and products. What will the holistic educators and practitioners look like tomorrow?
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Digital Rights Management
I was sitting in an Italian movie theater waiting for the show to start. The lights dimmed, parents shushed their kids, and teenagers giggled and played with the lighted screens of their cell phones. A community service announcement played before the main feature. Were they warning citizens against the dangers of drunk driving? Child abuse? Second hand smoke? Nope, it was a warning about the punishment that awaited criminals who downloaded free music from the internet. Larger than life black letters on red flashed across the screen, showing an astronomic fine and jail sentence for anyone who dared illegally download music.
My husband burst out laughing. It was more embarrassing than going to the movies with a kid who has to pee before the opening credits.
Why did he laugh? Because we'd never met anyone in the country who had legally purchased a song online. Everyone illegally downloaded ripped music. We asked an audiophile Italian friend how to repair one of our scratched CDs and he couldn't understand our problem- why not just download the songs from the damaged CD for free, then burn a new CD?
I don't mean to be rough on Italians- many other nationalities- including Americans- steal from artists, record companies, movie studios, and publishers by downloading illegally uploaded content. Honest folks like me pay for each and every one of their eBooks, digital audio and video files, and games. I don't mind paying for something I want to read or listen to- but I do mind DRM.
Digital Rights Management cripples digital content so that the publisher, movie studio, or record company dictate how I can use it. When I pay for my content, it comes shackled with a DRM- which means the eBook I can read on my Palm may not work on my husband's pocket PC. The song I bought from iTunes will work on my computer or on an iPod, but it will not play on an MP3 player not manufactured by Apple. I may burn the song onto a CD- but only for a limited number of times.
That's right- people who illegally pirate music can burn it to a CD, listen to it on their iPod, on their MP3 player, listen to it on their computer, and do whatever the heck they want with it. But since I paid for it fair and square, I have restricted use of my purchase. Does that sound fair to you?
Probably not- and the Free Software Foundation, consumer advocacy groups, and many artists don't think it's fair, either. Before we're too hard on the big bad entertainment industry, we should remember they're like overweight, out of shape old men who've gone red in the face trying to jog up the hill of technology. They know they need to keep up with the trends, but they're worried about losing money in the process. They are terrified someone to whom they sell a copy of a song, or a book, will put it up online and distribute it FOR FREE (shudder, possible heart failure).
Hmm. That seems to be happening anyway, doesn't it?
The reality is, that DRM makes the digital entertainment we buy harder and less fun to use. It restricts how we enjoy it. It punishes the people who are honest and does nothing to halt dishonesty.
If you think this is a small issue- think again. Norway, France, Germany, and Denmark are bucking against Apple's iTunes store. Their objection? The DRM. European consumer advocacy groups complain Apple's DRM is creating a monopoly for its iPod brand of music player. And, um, that's exactly what Apple's DRM is doing.
Science fiction writers like Cory Doctorow explore the role DRM may play in our future. For now, I'd just like to listen to my favorite Cibo Matto song when I'm out and about with my Palm.
My husband burst out laughing. It was more embarrassing than going to the movies with a kid who has to pee before the opening credits.
Why did he laugh? Because we'd never met anyone in the country who had legally purchased a song online. Everyone illegally downloaded ripped music. We asked an audiophile Italian friend how to repair one of our scratched CDs and he couldn't understand our problem- why not just download the songs from the damaged CD for free, then burn a new CD?
I don't mean to be rough on Italians- many other nationalities- including Americans- steal from artists, record companies, movie studios, and publishers by downloading illegally uploaded content. Honest folks like me pay for each and every one of their eBooks, digital audio and video files, and games. I don't mind paying for something I want to read or listen to- but I do mind DRM.
Digital Rights Management cripples digital content so that the publisher, movie studio, or record company dictate how I can use it. When I pay for my content, it comes shackled with a DRM- which means the eBook I can read on my Palm may not work on my husband's pocket PC. The song I bought from iTunes will work on my computer or on an iPod, but it will not play on an MP3 player not manufactured by Apple. I may burn the song onto a CD- but only for a limited number of times.
That's right- people who illegally pirate music can burn it to a CD, listen to it on their iPod, on their MP3 player, listen to it on their computer, and do whatever the heck they want with it. But since I paid for it fair and square, I have restricted use of my purchase. Does that sound fair to you?
Probably not- and the Free Software Foundation, consumer advocacy groups, and many artists don't think it's fair, either. Before we're too hard on the big bad entertainment industry, we should remember they're like overweight, out of shape old men who've gone red in the face trying to jog up the hill of technology. They know they need to keep up with the trends, but they're worried about losing money in the process. They are terrified someone to whom they sell a copy of a song, or a book, will put it up online and distribute it FOR FREE (shudder, possible heart failure).
Hmm. That seems to be happening anyway, doesn't it?
The reality is, that DRM makes the digital entertainment we buy harder and less fun to use. It restricts how we enjoy it. It punishes the people who are honest and does nothing to halt dishonesty.
If you think this is a small issue- think again. Norway, France, Germany, and Denmark are bucking against Apple's iTunes store. Their objection? The DRM. European consumer advocacy groups complain Apple's DRM is creating a monopoly for its iPod brand of music player. And, um, that's exactly what Apple's DRM is doing.
Science fiction writers like Cory Doctorow explore the role DRM may play in our future. For now, I'd just like to listen to my favorite Cibo Matto song when I'm out and about with my Palm.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Addio Kurt Vonnegut
NPR reports that Kurt Vonnegut (84) died last night. His Wikipedia entry has already been updated to reflect the date of his death. According to an NPR quote, for decades Vonnegut had been engaged in the "fairly sure, fairly honorable form of suicide" of smoking, but in the end was done in by complications from a fall- which just goes to show what must happen one day even to the mightiest.
I'll be talking more this week about Kurt Vonnegut. When one of my favorite authors dies, I usually enjoy some of their writing in their honor. For now I'll end with one thought:
Kurt Vonnegut was born in 1922. Let me repeat that. 1922. He grew up through the Great Depression and WW I. He was a private in WW II (and was captured as a prisoner of war in Dresden, Germany). The quote "So it goes" from his most famous novel, Slaughterhouse-Five became an anti-war slogan for protesting Vietnam, and he was an outspoken critic of the war in Iraq. My point here isn't simply about Vonnegut's politics- it's about the span of his life, the times he lived through, and his extraordinary personal engagement with the most important events of modern history. Here's a guy who had a story to tell, and boy did he ever.
I'll be talking more this week about Kurt Vonnegut. When one of my favorite authors dies, I usually enjoy some of their writing in their honor. For now I'll end with one thought:
Kurt Vonnegut was born in 1922. Let me repeat that. 1922. He grew up through the Great Depression and WW I. He was a private in WW II (and was captured as a prisoner of war in Dresden, Germany). The quote "So it goes" from his most famous novel, Slaughterhouse-Five became an anti-war slogan for protesting Vietnam, and he was an outspoken critic of the war in Iraq. My point here isn't simply about Vonnegut's politics- it's about the span of his life, the times he lived through, and his extraordinary personal engagement with the most important events of modern history. Here's a guy who had a story to tell, and boy did he ever.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
eBook Library
How would you feel about a library where you the book you wanted to read was never checked out, you could keep it as long as you liked, and never had to return it?
The University of Virginia has made this dream a reality with their Electronic Text Center. Anyone from anywhere in the world can access over 2,000 titles to read in HTML or eBook format (Palm Reader and Microsoft Reader). According to the site, millions of copies have been downloaded by people in over 100 different countries.
The eBook library contains titles in the public domain- in other words, old stuff. Are you too hip for old stuff? What if you get the urge to read (or re-read) Alice in Wonderland, Around the World in Eighty Days, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz? You could rediscover the fun of a Sherlock Holmes mystery, or read that Shakespearian play that always embarrasses you when friends assume you know it. Books I've mentioned recently available at the eBook library include Frankenstein and Dracula. There are some gems in these 2000+ titles just waiting to be downloaded or read online.
But what if you want to read something written since the advent of TV dinners? Electronic library models, such as that used by Fictionwise solve this problem by allowing donors to purchase eBook copies that membered patrons may borrow for a short period of time. You don't have to return your copy or worry about fines- but the book will no longer be legible after the due date.
The University of Virginia has made this dream a reality with their Electronic Text Center. Anyone from anywhere in the world can access over 2,000 titles to read in HTML or eBook format (Palm Reader and Microsoft Reader). According to the site, millions of copies have been downloaded by people in over 100 different countries.
The eBook library contains titles in the public domain- in other words, old stuff. Are you too hip for old stuff? What if you get the urge to read (or re-read) Alice in Wonderland, Around the World in Eighty Days, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz? You could rediscover the fun of a Sherlock Holmes mystery, or read that Shakespearian play that always embarrasses you when friends assume you know it. Books I've mentioned recently available at the eBook library include Frankenstein and Dracula. There are some gems in these 2000+ titles just waiting to be downloaded or read online.
But what if you want to read something written since the advent of TV dinners? Electronic library models, such as that used by Fictionwise solve this problem by allowing donors to purchase eBook copies that membered patrons may borrow for a short period of time. You don't have to return your copy or worry about fines- but the book will no longer be legible after the due date.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
The Digital Content Revolution
If you had ever moved 3,000 books, a huge CD collection, and all your favorite DVDs and video games to a dozen different apartments (and moved all those books and CDs overseas) you'd still not be half as excited as I am about digital content. Now instead of paperbacks, I buy eBooks (and eBook magazines) from fictionwise.com. I buy my music from iTunes or eMusic. I download movies, TV, and other video content from iTunes and XBox Live (I can download demos and playable video games from XBox Live, too). I can even get digital audio books in English (audible.com) or French (audible.fr). I'd say I've fully embraced the digital lifestyle- and I'm loving it.
The first, most obvious advantage to digital media is that piles of books no longer threaten to topple as I walk through our house, and I don't have to spend needless hours of my life dusting jewel cases. The idea that I can "pack" the majority of our book and music collection on a pair of USB drives the next time we move, lets me smile when my husband buys another album instead of nervously wringing my hands.
But what if you only own a moderate amount of media, and have the good sense to stay put in one place? What can the digital content revolution do for you?
Advantage number one: it can get your stuff to you instantly. Forget waiting for a package to arrive in the mail, forget hopping in the car and driving to the bookstore or music store (are there still brick and mortar CD shops?), forget walking a couple blocks to the video store. Digital content, whether purchased or rented, is available instantly. The only possible delay is waiting for a long movie to download, but someday even that will be accomplished in the blink of an eye.
Advantage number two: you can watch TV programs and movies when it fits into your schedule. You no longer have to rearrange your life to catch Battlestar Galactica. Just subscribe to the series on iTunes.
Advantage number three: digital media is often less expensive than than physical media. I've saved money by going digital.
Advantage number four: you'll have embraced the digital content revolution, and the content you buy today will be compatible with the devices of the future.
Advantage number five: in March I talked about what creative solutions can be found to take it easy on the environment. The digital content revolution is an overlooked green shopping choice. If you order a DVD from an online retailer, the DVD has to arrive at the seller's warehouse. It's shrink wrapped, invoiced, boxed, shipped. A DVD purchased at the store has to be transported to a warehouse, then distributed to local merchants. You have to get in the car and go get it, then bring it home. Let's face it, you'll probably take it home in a plastic shopping bag. Oh- and don't forget that a factory had to stamp out the DVD, the accompanying full color booklet, the coupons and special offers you don't want stuck inside the case, the shrink wrap over the case, and the case, itself.
Environmental impact of the digital download: electricity needed to run the server where the content is stored, and the computer in your house.
It's a lot of fun being part of the digital content revolution. So far I've managed to participate without rioting in the streets- not that battles over digital rights haven't taken place in court rooms, caused international conflicts, or spawned grassroots protests. In fact, understanding DRM (digital rights management) is crucial to understanding the revolutionary new way we read books, listen to music, and watch TV. I'll discuss DRM and other aspects of the digital lifestyle in upcoming posts.
The first, most obvious advantage to digital media is that piles of books no longer threaten to topple as I walk through our house, and I don't have to spend needless hours of my life dusting jewel cases. The idea that I can "pack" the majority of our book and music collection on a pair of USB drives the next time we move, lets me smile when my husband buys another album instead of nervously wringing my hands.
But what if you only own a moderate amount of media, and have the good sense to stay put in one place? What can the digital content revolution do for you?
Advantage number one: it can get your stuff to you instantly. Forget waiting for a package to arrive in the mail, forget hopping in the car and driving to the bookstore or music store (are there still brick and mortar CD shops?), forget walking a couple blocks to the video store. Digital content, whether purchased or rented, is available instantly. The only possible delay is waiting for a long movie to download, but someday even that will be accomplished in the blink of an eye.
Advantage number two: you can watch TV programs and movies when it fits into your schedule. You no longer have to rearrange your life to catch Battlestar Galactica. Just subscribe to the series on iTunes.
Advantage number three: digital media is often less expensive than than physical media. I've saved money by going digital.
Advantage number four: you'll have embraced the digital content revolution, and the content you buy today will be compatible with the devices of the future.
Advantage number five: in March I talked about what creative solutions can be found to take it easy on the environment. The digital content revolution is an overlooked green shopping choice. If you order a DVD from an online retailer, the DVD has to arrive at the seller's warehouse. It's shrink wrapped, invoiced, boxed, shipped. A DVD purchased at the store has to be transported to a warehouse, then distributed to local merchants. You have to get in the car and go get it, then bring it home. Let's face it, you'll probably take it home in a plastic shopping bag. Oh- and don't forget that a factory had to stamp out the DVD, the accompanying full color booklet, the coupons and special offers you don't want stuck inside the case, the shrink wrap over the case, and the case, itself.
Environmental impact of the digital download: electricity needed to run the server where the content is stored, and the computer in your house.
It's a lot of fun being part of the digital content revolution. So far I've managed to participate without rioting in the streets- not that battles over digital rights haven't taken place in court rooms, caused international conflicts, or spawned grassroots protests. In fact, understanding DRM (digital rights management) is crucial to understanding the revolutionary new way we read books, listen to music, and watch TV. I'll discuss DRM and other aspects of the digital lifestyle in upcoming posts.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Spiders and My Shampoo
When you think spiderweb, what do you picture? A gossamer web, a fragile weave sparkling with dewdrops? A spiderweb is actually an extremely tough, stretchy fiber made of a complex crystalline structure. Marvel Comics wasn't so far off the mark when they showed Spiderman swinging from building to building on strands of web.
My interest in spiders today began with finding an awesome shampoo. I'd finally discovered the brand that promised the shiny, gorgeous hair I've always wanted, so I began to read the fine print and braced for the bad news that it wasn't cruelty free. I scanned the ingredients- there were the words I was dreading- silk proteins. As you probably know, the larva used to produce silk are boiled alive, so I prefer not to buy silk. But what, exactly, were silk proteins? It was darn good shampoo, so I did some research.
Turns out the silk proteins used in cosmetics (like my nifty shampoo) come from spiders, not silk worms! This was momentary good news, because while silk worms get boiled alive to produce their silk, spiders spin their silk, and definitely don't die in the process.
Pretty, shiny hair here we come!
Nope. Spiders aren't social creatures- if they're kept in large groups they eat each other (PETA and Wikipedia agree on this). The golden orb spider is commonly used to produce the spider silk used in high-end consumer textiles. I was unable to determine the species used in cosmetic production.
Here's where the real-life science fiction comes in: In 2000 a Canadian company called Nexus came up with the ingenious bioengineering idea of injecting golden orb spider DNA into goat eggs. The female of these transgenic (genetically modified) goats lactated milk laden with spider silk proteins. I'm not kidding. You can read about their work on Wikipedia and in an article from the New York Times archived on animalvoices.com. Now, the folks at Nexus were less interested in shampoo than I am. They wanted to extract the proteins from the milk and spin super strong fibers (trademarked "BioSteel") for use as fishing line, tennis racket string, and textiles. PETA and the New York Times article claim the military are interested in the resulting fibers to create bullet proof vests and body armor.
Nexus had some technological problems with their fiber production that they couldn't overcome. First, they were only able to transmit one of up to seven spider silk proteins to the lactating goats. Second, the process of spinning the proteins into fibers didn't work. Nexus tried to imitate the spider squeezing out fibers through its spinneret by squirting the heavily processed goat milk through tiny holes to create strands that were then stretched on a spindle. The description of the apparatus in the New York Times article is an SF dream, but the machinery was not able to convert the milk into thread in a commercially viable manner.
The cool part about this failed attempt was the idea that started it. Nexus CEO/president and bioengineer Jeffrey Turner says:
"The mammary gland is a perfect natural factory for the synthesizing and production of proteins."
What other kinds of proteins could be made from transgenic modification? What would their applications be? How does inexpensive, life-saving medication, sound? Turner originally envisioned his "udder factory outlet" as a way to cheaply produce medication. For financial and practical reasons (such as getting approval from the F.D.A.), he began his experiments producing strong silk fiber, instead.
And what about the animals in all this transgenic tinkering? New York Times journalist, Lawrence Osborne, makes it clear that Turner and his staff had a genuine love and respect for the goats they raised. No harm came to the goats- they were living the good life in the ample pasture lands of Canada. Of course the golden orb spiders didn't make out nearly so well. The spiders were killed and crushed to obtain their DNA for injection. I wouldn't buy silk made using this process for a pretty scarf or shiny hair, but I could certainly come to terms with it should it produce inexpensive, life-saving medicine.
Now for the big question- my shampoo! Will I walk the streets of Brooklyn with hair that doesn't bounce? Well, until the day that huge bioengineered spiders produce silk proteins (using one large genetically engineered "super-spider" is one solution to the spider cannibalism silk production problem), I'll not buy the shampoo, and will search for a plant-based alternative.
My interest in spiders today began with finding an awesome shampoo. I'd finally discovered the brand that promised the shiny, gorgeous hair I've always wanted, so I began to read the fine print and braced for the bad news that it wasn't cruelty free. I scanned the ingredients- there were the words I was dreading- silk proteins. As you probably know, the larva used to produce silk are boiled alive, so I prefer not to buy silk. But what, exactly, were silk proteins? It was darn good shampoo, so I did some research.
Turns out the silk proteins used in cosmetics (like my nifty shampoo) come from spiders, not silk worms! This was momentary good news, because while silk worms get boiled alive to produce their silk, spiders spin their silk, and definitely don't die in the process.
Pretty, shiny hair here we come!
Nope. Spiders aren't social creatures- if they're kept in large groups they eat each other (PETA and Wikipedia agree on this). The golden orb spider is commonly used to produce the spider silk used in high-end consumer textiles. I was unable to determine the species used in cosmetic production.
Here's where the real-life science fiction comes in: In 2000 a Canadian company called Nexus came up with the ingenious bioengineering idea of injecting golden orb spider DNA into goat eggs. The female of these transgenic (genetically modified) goats lactated milk laden with spider silk proteins. I'm not kidding. You can read about their work on Wikipedia and in an article from the New York Times archived on animalvoices.com. Now, the folks at Nexus were less interested in shampoo than I am. They wanted to extract the proteins from the milk and spin super strong fibers (trademarked "BioSteel") for use as fishing line, tennis racket string, and textiles. PETA and the New York Times article claim the military are interested in the resulting fibers to create bullet proof vests and body armor.
Nexus had some technological problems with their fiber production that they couldn't overcome. First, they were only able to transmit one of up to seven spider silk proteins to the lactating goats. Second, the process of spinning the proteins into fibers didn't work. Nexus tried to imitate the spider squeezing out fibers through its spinneret by squirting the heavily processed goat milk through tiny holes to create strands that were then stretched on a spindle. The description of the apparatus in the New York Times article is an SF dream, but the machinery was not able to convert the milk into thread in a commercially viable manner.
The cool part about this failed attempt was the idea that started it. Nexus CEO/president and bioengineer Jeffrey Turner says:
"The mammary gland is a perfect natural factory for the synthesizing and production of proteins."
What other kinds of proteins could be made from transgenic modification? What would their applications be? How does inexpensive, life-saving medication, sound? Turner originally envisioned his "udder factory outlet" as a way to cheaply produce medication. For financial and practical reasons (such as getting approval from the F.D.A.), he began his experiments producing strong silk fiber, instead.
And what about the animals in all this transgenic tinkering? New York Times journalist, Lawrence Osborne, makes it clear that Turner and his staff had a genuine love and respect for the goats they raised. No harm came to the goats- they were living the good life in the ample pasture lands of Canada. Of course the golden orb spiders didn't make out nearly so well. The spiders were killed and crushed to obtain their DNA for injection. I wouldn't buy silk made using this process for a pretty scarf or shiny hair, but I could certainly come to terms with it should it produce inexpensive, life-saving medicine.
Now for the big question- my shampoo! Will I walk the streets of Brooklyn with hair that doesn't bounce? Well, until the day that huge bioengineered spiders produce silk proteins (using one large genetically engineered "super-spider" is one solution to the spider cannibalism silk production problem), I'll not buy the shampoo, and will search for a plant-based alternative.
Monday, March 26, 2007
More Adventure in Middle Earth!
I cried when I finished The Lord of the Rings. The ending was beautiful, bitter-sweet, but the true source of my tears was that I had come to the end of the adventures, the end of my stay in Middle Earth. Now writer, Christopher Tolkien, and artist, Alan Lee, have given us a new adventure, The Children of Húrin.
The new book takes us back to a time of wonder in the First Age, long before the Third Age events of The Lord of the Rings. Christopher pulled together odds and ends of his father's history of Middle Earth and narrative poems (some of this material also appears in The Silmarillion and other sources) to write The Children of Húrin. The book is already available for pre-order on Amazon, and will be for sale on April 18th (The Deluxe Hardcover 1st Edition is available April 17th).
There's a lot of speculation in the press about how Christopher will carry on the legacy of his father. I'm expecting Christopher to do an excellent job.
The Lord of the Rings was written between 1937-1949, when Christopher was 13-25. Christopher drew the original maps for The Lord of the Rings. Correspondence between J.R.R. and Christopher (which I read in The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien) shows that Christopher collaborated on the languages, mythology, and storytelling that make up The Lord of the Rings and Middle Earth. It is heart-breaking to read some of these letters, written when Christopher was stationed far from home during World War II. The fantasy world is a safe place for father and son, it gives them something to talk about other than the distance between them and the fear that Christopher might not return home. It offers them a way to say that war stinks and they both wish Christopher didn't have to fight it, while remaining loyal to their cause and country. I particularly loved the letter in which J.R.R. writes directly to the the censors, explaining that his Elvish script isn't a secret code or a security threat, but is just a hobby shared between father and son.
My high expectations are based on the level of collaboration Christopher had with his father and the fact that Christopher has been working on the book for over thirty years (this is no get-rich-quick scheme to ride the popularity of the films). I'm also impressed that Christopher chose to set the story in the First Age. J.R.R. penned his indelible mark on the Third Age of Middle Earth. Going back in time, to a "Middle-earth that was to be drowned before ever Hobbits appeared" (source: Tolkien Estate) and his choice of a human, not magical protagonist, should leave Christopher the artistic space he needs to take us back to Middle Earth without re-writing an adventure that could never be as good as the original.
If you're excited to learn more about the upcoming release, check out this link at the Tolkien Library.
The new book takes us back to a time of wonder in the First Age, long before the Third Age events of The Lord of the Rings. Christopher pulled together odds and ends of his father's history of Middle Earth and narrative poems (some of this material also appears in The Silmarillion and other sources) to write The Children of Húrin. The book is already available for pre-order on Amazon, and will be for sale on April 18th (The Deluxe Hardcover 1st Edition is available April 17th).
There's a lot of speculation in the press about how Christopher will carry on the legacy of his father. I'm expecting Christopher to do an excellent job.
The Lord of the Rings was written between 1937-1949, when Christopher was 13-25. Christopher drew the original maps for The Lord of the Rings. Correspondence between J.R.R. and Christopher (which I read in The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien) shows that Christopher collaborated on the languages, mythology, and storytelling that make up The Lord of the Rings and Middle Earth. It is heart-breaking to read some of these letters, written when Christopher was stationed far from home during World War II. The fantasy world is a safe place for father and son, it gives them something to talk about other than the distance between them and the fear that Christopher might not return home. It offers them a way to say that war stinks and they both wish Christopher didn't have to fight it, while remaining loyal to their cause and country. I particularly loved the letter in which J.R.R. writes directly to the the censors, explaining that his Elvish script isn't a secret code or a security threat, but is just a hobby shared between father and son.
My high expectations are based on the level of collaboration Christopher had with his father and the fact that Christopher has been working on the book for over thirty years (this is no get-rich-quick scheme to ride the popularity of the films). I'm also impressed that Christopher chose to set the story in the First Age. J.R.R. penned his indelible mark on the Third Age of Middle Earth. Going back in time, to a "Middle-earth that was to be drowned before ever Hobbits appeared" (source: Tolkien Estate) and his choice of a human, not magical protagonist, should leave Christopher the artistic space he needs to take us back to Middle Earth without re-writing an adventure that could never be as good as the original.
If you're excited to learn more about the upcoming release, check out this link at the Tolkien Library.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Dracula 1.0 From Gothic to Horror Fiction
It only seems fair after writing a post called Dracula 2.0 to write one in honor of Dracula 1.0. The version numbers aren't just for fun- Bram Stoker's Dracula founded pop culture's fascination with the vampire, and, according to the HWA, was the "seminal horror work." But Bram Stoker did not invent the vampire. Blood-sucking legend has a long folklore history, nor was Bram Stoker the first to introduce the legend in literary form. This honor is usually attributed to Carmila by Sheridan Le Fanu. Carmila heavily influenced Stoker's novel, and is not unlike the beta version of some great software that never gained the popularity of its 1.0 release candidate.
So why do kids dress up as Dracula instead of Carmila on Halloween? Why doesn't the HWA (Horror Writers Association) give out Le Fanu awards instead of the Stoker awards? The answer has to do with genre. Carmila is an example of Gothic fiction, not horror.
Gothic fiction is all about ambiance and spooky atmosphere. Gothic novels are often romances, in which a nubile young woman faces a supernatural threat that parallels the threat of her deflowering (think Jane Eyre). Gothic fiction is all about building a sense of dread, and the spooky is in the suspense, the heroine's fragility, and her grim surroundings.
The principle characteristic of horror fiction is shock. A head is severed by a chain saw, a psychopath sews a suit of human skin, a victim falls in vat of acid and we see him dissolve.
Horror is the child of Gothic fiction- horror borrows the build-up of suspense and dreadful atmosphere, then shows us the gruesome, physical details of the dreaded event. Bram Stoker's Dracula is honored as a seminal horror work because it built on the Gothic fiction elements of Le Fanu's Carmila and got down to the gritty physical details of vampirism. Gross scenes in Dracula include crude blood transfusions, eating insects and birds raw, cutting the head off a corpse. Dracula contains elements of both Gothic and horror fiction, which is one of the reasons I love it.
My interest in the horror genre leans more toward the creepy atmosphere and build-up of suspense than the gross-out. This is a purely personal preference, and it explains why I love Stephen King books like Needful Things, Insomnia, and Salem's Lot, but can't get past the first two pages of The Stand. The Stand begins with shocking gross-out events, the other King novels I mentioned begin with spooky atmosphere in small towns.
The horror genre runs on a spectrum from Gothic to shock- is your preference at one of he extremes or dead in the middle?
So why do kids dress up as Dracula instead of Carmila on Halloween? Why doesn't the HWA (Horror Writers Association) give out Le Fanu awards instead of the Stoker awards? The answer has to do with genre. Carmila is an example of Gothic fiction, not horror.
Gothic fiction is all about ambiance and spooky atmosphere. Gothic novels are often romances, in which a nubile young woman faces a supernatural threat that parallels the threat of her deflowering (think Jane Eyre). Gothic fiction is all about building a sense of dread, and the spooky is in the suspense, the heroine's fragility, and her grim surroundings.
The principle characteristic of horror fiction is shock. A head is severed by a chain saw, a psychopath sews a suit of human skin, a victim falls in vat of acid and we see him dissolve.
Horror is the child of Gothic fiction- horror borrows the build-up of suspense and dreadful atmosphere, then shows us the gruesome, physical details of the dreaded event. Bram Stoker's Dracula is honored as a seminal horror work because it built on the Gothic fiction elements of Le Fanu's Carmila and got down to the gritty physical details of vampirism. Gross scenes in Dracula include crude blood transfusions, eating insects and birds raw, cutting the head off a corpse. Dracula contains elements of both Gothic and horror fiction, which is one of the reasons I love it.
My interest in the horror genre leans more toward the creepy atmosphere and build-up of suspense than the gross-out. This is a purely personal preference, and it explains why I love Stephen King books like Needful Things, Insomnia, and Salem's Lot, but can't get past the first two pages of The Stand. The Stand begins with shocking gross-out events, the other King novels I mentioned begin with spooky atmosphere in small towns.
The horror genre runs on a spectrum from Gothic to shock- is your preference at one of he extremes or dead in the middle?
Friday, March 23, 2007
Carried Away
Ready for a tale of international intrigue, death, and rock 'n roll? Let's talk about Noir Desir.
When my husband and I moved to Italy, a friend introduced us to Manu Chao. His ethnic and cultural description on Wikipedia is enough to make your head spin. Manu Chao and his music are a mix of many Mediterranean cultures, and he's popular with the European liberal/communist intellectual crowd. Politics aside, he's a great musician, and he can make your knees melt when he plays the guitar. This brings me to the song that has literally carried me away, a song by French rock band, Noir Desir, in which Manu Chao is guest guitarist. It's no surprise that Noir Desir and Manu Chao teamed up. Noir Desir champions a similar European leftist agenda, anti-globilization, sticking it to the man (even when the man was the president of their record label, whom they defamed in person at one of their concerts).
The song that was the result of collaboration by Noir Desir and Manu Chao is called "Le vent nous portera." Translated, the track literally means: the wind will carry us away. The first time I heard this song I was struck by its wild, vibrant power. But the first listen is nothing. About the fourth or fifth time I heard "Le vent nous portera" on a warm spring night with the windows open and the house dark and otherwise silent, the guitar riffs and drum beats had wormed their way into my blood, infected me with the fever that is this song.
Now, to get this album, my husband had to import the CD (des Visages des Figures) from France (coincidentally the album was released in Europe on the infamous September 11, 2001). Des Visages des Figures is a great album with some fantastic tracks ("A l'envers à l'endroit" is another of my favorites), but something about "Le vent nous portera" catches the harsh passion of life and death. It is as though the springtime of new life and regeneration looks into the heart of death, rot, and decay from which it arises and does an impassioned dance in honor of the circle of life.
When we moved from Italy to New York, this album got left behind- temporarily. The temporary loss of our music collection has been eased by the digital music phenomenon. Between Rhapsody, iTunes, and emusic, we can find pretty much any track we crave- but not "Le vent nous portera." In fact, I couldn't find des Visages des Figures in any music store or American online store or digital music service.
Why is this album unavailable? I've got one theory- Noir Desir has been more or less blackballed outside France because its lead singer and lyricist, Bertrand Cantat, brutally murdered his lover, Marie Trigninant. The couple were in Lithuania, and when injuries from Cantat's beating resulted in Trigninant's death several days later, the local government convicted Cantat of murder and put him away for eight years. Though Lithuania eventually agreed to Cantat's transfer to a French prison, the sentence stuck, and Noir Desir's reputation went down the toilet. It was impossible to mention the band without the murder.
When the first warm days of spring rolled around this year, the old craving for "Le vent nous portera" gnawed at me. I broke down and imported it from France- the only country I've found still willing to sell it. Weeks passed, the CD didn't arrive. Delirium tremors began. We wrote to Amazon France, and they graciously resent our order. Then, yesterday, a knock at the door. My cheerful, smiling postman held out a cardboard box from foreign lands, unaware of the dark, exciting mystery it contained.
When my husband and I moved to Italy, a friend introduced us to Manu Chao. His ethnic and cultural description on Wikipedia is enough to make your head spin. Manu Chao and his music are a mix of many Mediterranean cultures, and he's popular with the European liberal/communist intellectual crowd. Politics aside, he's a great musician, and he can make your knees melt when he plays the guitar. This brings me to the song that has literally carried me away, a song by French rock band, Noir Desir, in which Manu Chao is guest guitarist. It's no surprise that Noir Desir and Manu Chao teamed up. Noir Desir champions a similar European leftist agenda, anti-globilization, sticking it to the man (even when the man was the president of their record label, whom they defamed in person at one of their concerts).
The song that was the result of collaboration by Noir Desir and Manu Chao is called "Le vent nous portera." Translated, the track literally means: the wind will carry us away. The first time I heard this song I was struck by its wild, vibrant power. But the first listen is nothing. About the fourth or fifth time I heard "Le vent nous portera" on a warm spring night with the windows open and the house dark and otherwise silent, the guitar riffs and drum beats had wormed their way into my blood, infected me with the fever that is this song.
Now, to get this album, my husband had to import the CD (des Visages des Figures) from France (coincidentally the album was released in Europe on the infamous September 11, 2001). Des Visages des Figures is a great album with some fantastic tracks ("A l'envers à l'endroit" is another of my favorites), but something about "Le vent nous portera" catches the harsh passion of life and death. It is as though the springtime of new life and regeneration looks into the heart of death, rot, and decay from which it arises and does an impassioned dance in honor of the circle of life.
When we moved from Italy to New York, this album got left behind- temporarily. The temporary loss of our music collection has been eased by the digital music phenomenon. Between Rhapsody, iTunes, and emusic, we can find pretty much any track we crave- but not "Le vent nous portera." In fact, I couldn't find des Visages des Figures in any music store or American online store or digital music service.
Why is this album unavailable? I've got one theory- Noir Desir has been more or less blackballed outside France because its lead singer and lyricist, Bertrand Cantat, brutally murdered his lover, Marie Trigninant. The couple were in Lithuania, and when injuries from Cantat's beating resulted in Trigninant's death several days later, the local government convicted Cantat of murder and put him away for eight years. Though Lithuania eventually agreed to Cantat's transfer to a French prison, the sentence stuck, and Noir Desir's reputation went down the toilet. It was impossible to mention the band without the murder.
When the first warm days of spring rolled around this year, the old craving for "Le vent nous portera" gnawed at me. I broke down and imported it from France- the only country I've found still willing to sell it. Weeks passed, the CD didn't arrive. Delirium tremors began. We wrote to Amazon France, and they graciously resent our order. Then, yesterday, a knock at the door. My cheerful, smiling postman held out a cardboard box from foreign lands, unaware of the dark, exciting mystery it contained.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
See the Other Side
In my post today on the Friggin' Write blog, I give a very positive review to a story in the first person, present tense! For those who read my March 2nd rant on the overused combination of the first person and present tense in the Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, you'll be interested to read how much I enjoyed the offending combination as used by Tatyana Tolstaya in her literary short story, "See the Other Side." Since the story was published in The New Yorker, you can read and enjoy it online for free here.
So, first person, present tense in The New Yorker is cool, but I throw a fit when I read it in F&SF? My complaint with F&SF is that they're printing too many (at times exclusively) of this type of story. More specifically, I was pretty upset by how badly M. Rickert's "Memoir of a Deer Woman" used the present tense.
Tolstaya's translated story flows beautifully in the present tense. The protagonist's present tense journey is the frame for a story that goes back decades in time. Memories of actions and emotions in the past are crucial to the plot of the story, and the author's use of present tense for the present time in the story avoids time line confusion. The tense choice gracefully avoids a lot of awkward past perfect tense (past perfect = "he had already written", "she had already called"). The fact that the author is a middle-aged Russian woman and the protagonist is a middle-aged Russian woman makes the choice of the first person, I, natural and genuine. Far from detracting from a lovely story, the use of the first person, present tense made "See the Other Side" more engaging and warm.
So, first person, present tense in The New Yorker is cool, but I throw a fit when I read it in F&SF? My complaint with F&SF is that they're printing too many (at times exclusively) of this type of story. More specifically, I was pretty upset by how badly M. Rickert's "Memoir of a Deer Woman" used the present tense.
Tolstaya's translated story flows beautifully in the present tense. The protagonist's present tense journey is the frame for a story that goes back decades in time. Memories of actions and emotions in the past are crucial to the plot of the story, and the author's use of present tense for the present time in the story avoids time line confusion. The tense choice gracefully avoids a lot of awkward past perfect tense (past perfect = "he had already written", "she had already called"). The fact that the author is a middle-aged Russian woman and the protagonist is a middle-aged Russian woman makes the choice of the first person, I, natural and genuine. Far from detracting from a lovely story, the use of the first person, present tense made "See the Other Side" more engaging and warm.
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