Digital Trend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toward the End of Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Wizard of Earthsea

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sweet Serenity

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

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

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

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

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

Hugo Winners

Sleepy Worldcon reports are beginning to trickle in from friends and from sf writers' blogs. Apparently people sang, partied, chatted, drank coffee- did everything but sleep at this conference. Tired or not, the organizers of the conference managed to get the Hugo Award Winners up online.

First, let me mention that Serenity stole both the Nebula and the Hugo this year. Well-deserved in my opinion. Check back later this week for my review of Serenity.

While we're on the subject of video media, let me say that "The Empty Child" & "The Doctor Dances" were undoubtedly the best two episodes of Dr. Who (as aired so far in the U.S.) that I have seen. There is no doubt that these two episodes were deliciously creepy. Were they better than Battlestar Galactica's "Pegasus?" I'm still catching up on this series, so I couldn't say.

Now onto that old-fashioned print stuff. Best novellette went to Peter S. Beagle. I remember reading "Two Hearts" in the double October/November issue of F&SF. I was so impressed that I ran out to the used bookstore in search of more Beagle.

Asimov's cleared away the rest of the short fiction prizes. Sadly, I read neither tale. Nor have I read the book that took away the big prize for best novel by Robert Charles Wilson.

"Related Book" award went to Kate Wilhelm for her memoir on the creation of the Clarion Writer's Workshop. This book is sitting on my shelf, partially read- not because it isn't excellent, but because there is so much information on craft that I want to absorb it just a little at a time. It is also great fun to learn how Wilhelm and her husband nursed the fledgling workshop along in its earliest days.

One last interesting note: Neil Gaiman's blog post, Hugo Words, discusses his decision to withdraw his novel Anansi Boys from the Hugo nominations. I reviewed this book in a previous post. It was, in fact, the first post ever on my blog!

The Hugos are Coming!

If you're not already aware, the 64th Annual Worldcon (World Science Fiction Convention) is going on right now in L.A. (technically Anaheim, CA). The conference has been going on since Wednesday, and will dramatically conclude Saturday evening with the Hugo Award Ceremonies. You can check out the Hugo nominees here.

For an explanation of the difference between the Nebula and Hugo Awards, see my post: The Nebulas are Coming!. In short, the Hugo is voted on by members of the Worldcon convention. That isn't as exclusive as it sounds: all you have to do to be a member of the convention, is buy a ticket and go. This makes the Hugo more of a "people's choice award" than the Nebula, which is determined by SFWA members (membership to that organization is for professionals with strict pro sale requirements).

If you're interested a ground's-eye view and pictures of what's been going on at Worldcom, check out the convention's live journal.

Ellison's Nubbin

Something interesting is going on in the September issue of F&SF. Harlan Ellison donated something to the magazine that he calls a nubbin- the kernel of a story idea that usually results in a full-blown, publishable tale. Ellison says he's only ever had two nubbins that wouldn't sprout. He has offered one of them to Gordon Van Gelder, to pass on to selected writers and see if they have better luck.

Luck is, in fact, the essence of the nubbin. Ellison envisions Lady Luck "wending her way through a gambling venue." Enter Unluckiest Guy in the Universe. Not only is Unlucky the only person in the crowd able to see Lady Luck, but he falls madly, hopelessly in love with her.

Sounds like fun- and all three commissioned stories are in the issue- though the editor never explains this, nor are the relevent stories highlighted in any way. You'll know a story is one of the three if the blurb at the top of each story gives some mention of why the particular author was chosen. All three intros will also claim certain members of a test audience thought THIS one was the best.

They were all fun to read, but Michael Libling's "If You've Ever Been A Lady" best captured the vision implied by Ellison's nubbin, and did the best job of exploiting the nature of luck.

If you pick up this issue and, like me, want to read the three Luck Be a Lady stories in a row, without turning all the pages of the magazine, here they are:

• "Señora Suerte" by Tananarive Due (Lady Luck blesses Bingo in an old folks' home)

• "Poor Guy" by Michael Kandel (a karma trip)

• "If You've Ever Been A Lady" by Michael Libling (Lady Luck meets her match in Las Vegas)

Interesting to note- all these stories were from Unlucky's point of view. I am itching to write a take where Lady Luck is the sympathetic character.

Child of a Rainless Year

Let's continue with the theme of fantastical houses and talk about the Phineas House. When middle school art teacher Mira Fenn returns to her childhood home, she learns that she has inherited more than than a building. The Phineas House is a responsive structure that may hold clues to her mother's mysterious disappearance forty years ago. Hoping to learn her mother's fate, Mira begins to commune with the house by repainting it in an orgy of fantastic colors.

Mira's adventure draws the reader into the fascinating world of color. Vibrant hues surround us, yet in essence every color is derived from variegated shades that subtly blend to create new aesthetic sensations. Jane Lindskold seizes upon the theme of color and refracts it through a magical kaleidoscope of storytelling to bring us Child of a Rainless Year.

Lindskold's fantasy is refreshingly modern and magical. She brings passages of The Golden Bough and other potentially dry mythological and mystical texts to life and expertly weaves legends of mirrors, shadows, and liminal space into the plot. Frequent tracts on feminism and women's rights are justified by the link Mira sees between herself and her adoptive 1950s mom, though at times these passages betray the author's intrusive voice.

I enjoyed meeting Mira and getting to know a Las Vegas that has nothing to do with casino wheels and dice. I had a lot of fun learning all about kaleidoscopes and teleidoscopes. And I love a fantasy in which the main character can both go on a mystical journey, and sell collectibles on eBay.

Monster House

I've seen quite a lot of films this summer, but only one was in 3D. Monster House was a great opportunity to sit in a dark, air conditioned environment, eat raisinettes, and wear nifty glasses. I saw this film in "Real D" (uses a single digital projector instead of the traditional two projector system), and the graphics were fantastic. The effect was less like hands reaching out and poking your eye (traditional 3D) and more like peering into a giant, three-dimensional diorama. A single autumn leaf drifting through the trees was a feast for the eyes- and the kids in the row behind me (who were hopped up on more than raisinettes) went nuts during this sequence.

Now, past the obvious coolness of great digital animation and Real D technology, we get to the story. There, the film faltered a little.

Don't get me wrong. The set-up was cool. Halloween, cursed house that comes alive, parents gone on vacation. It had all the makings of a really fun story. And fun was had. But my credibility was stretched to the breaking point. Now, I'm not talking about believability. I'm willing to suspend my belief pretty far in a world where a house can loll its red carpet tongue onto the front lawn and eat the neighborhood dog. But credibility talks about how the story behaves according to the rules of the make-believe universe. Do characters behave and events unfold in a way consistent with the rules established in the world?

If you're in the mood for some funny glasses and candy, go see for yourself and tell me what you think. I would say that the climax of the film relied on coincidence, that characters behaved in ways inconsistent with their abilities and special skills, and that the jaded babysitter so critical to the opening scenes of the movie faded away and disappeared without a whimper when her plot-device service was done.

But seriously, if you're a fan of computer graphics and digital 3D, don't let a few story flaws stand in the way of enjoying a beautifully animated film!

Vertiginous Monkeys

It's hot. The air conditioner died in a dramatic fireworks display just in time for the Fourth of July- and there is no possibility of getting it replaced for a few days. What do you do? Sink down on the sofa and watch some movies. Eat loads of Italian Ice. Yeah, that sounds good.

I found myself in this situation last week, and was fortunate to have some excellent films around to watch. But if you combine slow, hot vacation days with some Hitchcock and Terry Gilliam, things can start to get a little strange.

Last Friday I watched Vertigo. I am now actually afraid of bleached blondes.

Saturday afternoon I slipped Twelve Monkeys into the DVD player. Twelve Monkeys is a fairly intense time travel story- the kind that makes you squirm in your seat. Near the climax of the film, desperate time traveller James Cole and his psychiatrist Kathryn Railly try to escape pursuit by hiding out in a movie theater. There, James puts on his cheesy mustache and hairy wig. Kathryn disguises herself by bleaching her hair blond in the bathroom. As the transformation takes place, scenes from Vertigo are playing on the big screen. It was enough to give me the creeps in an already creepy film.

Have you ever noticed the time travel movie convention that everyone thinks the time traveller is mentally ill? Of course, mental illness is central to Vertigo, as well. Maybe I should limit my spec fiction viewing to reruns of Mork and Mindy. That ought to be safe, argh, argh.

By the way- if the name Terry Gilliam has been nagging you, the director of Twelve Monkeys is better known for his stint as animator and actor with Monty Python.

Speech Sounds

I was just reading the July issue of Asimov's when I came across the "In Memoriam" for Octavia Butler. The memoriam noted that Butler wrote few short stories. Of those she published, Asimov's had only printed two: "Speech Sounds" and "Bloodchild." These two stories "brought her three of her four major science fiction awards."

As it so happens, I'd just read "Speech Sounds." Sure enough, it won her the 1984 Hugo Award for Best Short Story.

"Speech Sounds" was a terrific story to read- not in the least because the science behind the science fiction was linguistcs- one of my favorite fields! The pandemic in this story leaves survivors unable to read, write, or speak. But things don't really start to get creepy until we learn that certain individuals, more resistant, stronger, luckier than the other survivors, have managed to retain limited portions of their linguistic abilities. These rare individuals who can still read, or, as in protagonist Rye's case, still speak coherent sentences, form a hated segment of an angry population who no longer have the ability to let off steam verbally. Their anger has to be acted out in a very physical way.

閉
Shut

A tiny Buddhist temple floats in the middle of a sparkling lake. Mountains soar above the lake, dwarfing the temple and the little canoe that serves as the only means of transport from the temple to the outside world.

Sounds charming, doesn't it? As Korean film Bom yeoreum gaeul gyeoul geurigo bom (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring) unfolds, the scene only gets more beautiful. Inside the temple lives an old monk and his little apprentice. The child's room is a mat on the floor. The room has no walls- just a door that juts up incongruously from the floor, and through which the little apprentice dutifully exits upon waking.

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring isn't technically a speculative fiction film, though a few miraculous things do occur. For instance, when the little apprentice steals the canoe and ventures alone to the mainland, the old monk mysteriously appears behind him. The old monk isn't even a little wet- leaving the viewer to wonder whether he has discovered teletransportation or just learned to walk on water.

The film traces the story of the young apprentice through the seasons of his life, from innocent child, through his sexual awakening, his disastrous excursion to the outside world, and his return to the floating temple. The cinematography and acting are moving- but I was not prepared to encounter anything in this seemingly mainstream film so creepy as 閉.

閉 is the Chinese character for "shut" or "closed." This symbol has become indelibly burned into my mind. It appears twice in the course of the story- and both times the wearer has written it on scraps of paper which have been glued firmly over the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. The papers have been glued in place in an attempt to shut out the world from the five senses- and to shut off the supply of oxygen. The first time I saw a character plastered over with 閉s, I was terrified. Even my untrained Western gut reaction had no trouble identifying this very Eastern symbolic gesture as an attempt at suicide. Later in the movie, the symbols appear again. This time suffocation is not the only means by which the wearer of the 閉s attempts to achieve death.

The impact of these scenes are heightened by the fact that the film is largely unspoken. Writer/director Ki-duk Kim rarely uses dialog, relying on the actions of the actors to tell the story. This hardly means that language is unimportant to the tale. Carving the characters of a Buddhist sutra into the planks of the floating temple bring about a veritable miracle, and let us not forget the power of the word 閉.

You can see some still images of the film (including an actor pasted over with 閉) in the gallery of the film's website.

The Improbability Locus Theory

A few weeks ago I discussed Joe Haldeman and how his experiences in the Vietnam War influenced his writing (Camouflage: on Humanity's Coming of Age and the Importance of Adaptability)

Today I came across a short story by Haldeman: "The Private War of Private Jacob."

There are a lot of puns in this barely five-page story. The title is a good example. Another pun arises when the soldiers are talking about their sergeant- a man who has never once been hit in battle. Jacob proposes that the sergeant's good fortune is due to the "improbability locus theory." A fellow private jokes that Sergeant Melford "sure is an imperturbable locust." Soldiers facing very grim circumstances need to use humor as an escape.

Graveyard humor is one thing, but the way Sergeant Melford acts is something entirely different. Jacob has serious misgivings about the sanity of the overly cheerful sergeant, who laughs with genuine glee as he leads his men to their deaths.

So- what is this "improbability locus theory?" Is Haldeman just putting some fancy words into a Yatzee tumbler and seeing what comes out? I don't think so.

Try looking up luck on wikipedia. You'll find references to the locus of control. The locus of control has to do with how an individual feels his future will be determined- by external forces beyond his control, or by his own internal resources, and the conditions in which he chooses to live his life. As we learn in "The Private War of Private Jacob," Sergeant Melford's locus of control is a little more complex than we expected...

But on a much more literal level, Sergeant Melford is an "improbability locus" because battle, after battle, after battle, the men around him die, but he is never hit.

I found this short story particularly interesting, because it didn't read like science fiction. Oh, there were a few interesting weapons slid into the brutally realistic depiction of death and violence on the battlefield- but the story read like any mainstream war story. It isn't until Jacob's worst fears about himself are confirmed, that we really enter the realm of science fiction.

Concentration

Have you heard about the latest craze in reality TV? It's this show called Concentration. Contestants were chosen by lottery, then dragged off to a recreation of a Nazi concentration camp. The highlight of the broadcast is when the prisoners line up for review, and the weakest are chosen for the gas chamber.

Who is responsible for this inhumane fiasco? The prison guards who use the contestants for slave labor? Or the studio execs who thought up and financed Concentration?

No. Prissoner CKZ 114 was right. YOU are responsible for this program. You and every single viewer who tunes in to Concentration.

Fortunately, Concentration is not the brainchild of CBS- but of Amelie Nothomb writing her latest book, Acide Sulfurique. Though many of the francophone author's books have been translated into English ( Fear and Trembling , The Life of Hunger, and my personal favorite, The Life of Rain) those who don't speak French will have to wait a little while to read Acide Sulfurique.

In addition to studying with horrified fascination the public's participation in Concentration, Nothomb uses protagonist CKZ 114 to explore some themes familiar from her other novels: the power of beauty, the power of a name, and the ease with which an innocent girl can mistake herself for God.

For those who have been following Season One of Dr. Who in the U.S., you might remember that Part I of the final episode dealt with a theme similar to that of Acide Sulfurique. Each of the three main characters found themselves in the middle of deadly game shows. The Doctor was locked in a house in a Big Brother type show. Rose was playing the Weakest Link for her life. Captain Jack is getting a makeover with a chain saw.

Reality TV has become as prevalent in European culture as it has in America (when I lived in Italy Grande Fratello, the Italian version of Big Brother, was all the rage). Future extrapolations of reality TV, at least by European authors, tends to be very dark, indeed.

"Emergency Medical Hologram" May Be Less Futuristic Than You Think

This weekend I was playing around with Prolog- a logic programming language (developed for natural language processing) often used in artificial intelligence programs.

Now, my program wasn't very complicated. It was designed to help me choose which of three pair of shoes I wanted to buy.

The top portion of the program was dedicated to entering information about the shoes: their cost, what material they were made of, arch support, ease of washing, ect. The second portion was a set of rules and superrules.

The rules taught the program how to categorize the random bits of information. For instance- I taught the program that ecologically responsible shoes were not made of leather. Practical shoes are not too expensive, and can be washed. Comfortable shoes had good arch support. Cute shoes are blue or yellow, not black.

The superrules used the rules and detailed information to make value judgements. It learned to tell me that acceptable shoes met the criteria for ecologically responsibility and practicality. Optimal shoes meet the conditions of acceptable shoes and are also not too expensive (and possibly cute)!

That may seem like a lot of work for picking out your shoes. But just think of the enormous machines that filled the basements of universities- the original computers- which did with thousands of dollars and thousands of man hours what would take a calculator of the day no trouble to reproduce.

The power comes with what you can do with more complex questions. What if, for example, I was not trying to match shoes to my quirky wants and needs- but trying to match the bizarre symptoms of a patient to a disease?

Turns out this has already been done, using another logic programming language called Lisp. Mycin was developed in the 1970s to help doctors diagnose and treat rare blood diseases. According to wikipedia, Mycin's inference engine, loaded with information not unlike my standards for selecting shoes (though much more complex), accepted yes/no input from a long series of text questions, and then listed the likely bacterial interloper, complete with a list of other likely candidates ranked in order of its confidence in the diagnosis. Mycin outperformed general practice physicians in diagnosing these rare blood diseases, and held up pretty well against specialists in the field.

Mycin was the predecessor to CADUCEUS. CADUCEUS's amition was to diagnose more than blood diseases- extending to about 1,000 different internal medicine condtions.

So the "Emergency Medical Hologram" seen in Star Trek: Voyager wasn't as far out there as he seemed. We don't have any holograms that can wield a scalpel- but we do have artificial intelligence inference engines capable of flipping through every condition and symptom known to man, and making a guess at diagnosis and treatment.

I wouldn't want to give up my health insurance just yet- trained professionals will always be necessary to assess the patient and enter the symptoms, to review the findings, and administer treatment. But imagine what a difference such a system could make to a third world clinic staffed by one overworked doctor. Imagine how a system like CADUCEUS could help stumped doctors diagnose a condition with irregular symptoms. Imagine colonists far away from Earth, their physician killed, and decades left before the replacement will arrive.

The possibilities are endless...and they all begin with one little line of code.

New Studio Ghibli Convert

About ten birthdays ago I got these funny little white and grey bean bag creatures from a Japanese friend. She told me they were her favorite cartoon characters- and they sure were cute.

It wasn't until recently that I discovered what these little toys were. They are otedama: palm-sized bean bags that can be used for juggling or playing a traditional Japanese game. My particular otedama are very special. They are Chū and Chibi Totoro.

My husband wanted to see a Miyazaki film after hearing a screenwriter say that My Neighbor Totoro was his favorite film (and a good thing, since his kids wanted to watch it non-stop). We got a copy of My Neighbor Totoro (Tonari no Totoro in Japanese), and I immediately fell in love with Miyazaki films.

Like all the greatest kids' books and films, My Neighbor Totoro appeals to both children and adults. Miyazaki uses the animated medium to reintegrate people of all ages with the sense of wonder that is our birthright as human beings. My otedama characters are tiny versions of the much larger Totoro- a sleepy forest spirit who wakes now and then to perform miracles like stirring the wind, turning seeds into trees, and helping little girls grow up.

If you have kids and they've never seen this film, watch it with them. If you don't have kids, watch it anyway!!

We were so impressed by Miyazaki and his production studio that we're eagerly seeking out and watching every film that has come from Studio Ghibli. A few of these films stand out as tremendous works of fantasy- so I'll be reviewing them in future entries.

Camouflage: on Humanity's Coming of Age and the Importance of Adaptability

The main title, Camouflage, is Joe Haldeman's. The secondary title is mine.

First let's talk about the actual title of Joe Haldeman's Nebula winning novel.

Here's what Webster's Online Dictionary has to say about camouflage:

1: the disguising especially of military equipment or installations
2 a : concealment by means of disguise b : behavior or artifice designed to deceive or hide

Camouflage begins like a classic, Crichtonesque thriller. For fans of nuts and bolts sf, fun physics and astrophysics facts abound, as not particularly well-characterized researchers go about trying to unlock the mysteries of an artifact found buried in the depths of the ocean. This fairly standard sf fare is made more intriguing by the "changeling," an immortal alien who presumably got its ride to Earth within the mysterious artifact. Third person omniscient narrating tells us that the "changeling" comes from a world of such harsh conditions, that it has learned to adapt to any environment- "not by natural selection, but by natural mutation." It can change the structure of its DNA-less body to adapt to any environmental conditions- extreme hot, extreme cold, bizarre chemical soup atmospheres, or no atmosphere at all. It can survive decapitation- when it is in a form that has a head. It can become a hammerhead shark, a beautiful woman, a floor tile, a TV set. It enjoys the taste of chlorine and gasoline.

After the "changeling" lands on Earth, it swims around in the ocean for a number of centuries, hanging out in the form of several kinds marine life. Then in 1931 it emerges on a California beach and makes its first attempt at taking human form. It soon finds that imitating the human body is a heck of a lot easier than imitating human behavior.

The story of Camouflage is the story of humanity's coming of age between the years 1931 and 2021. Haldeman, a Purple Heart Vietmam draftee, writes about the horrors of World War II as seen through the "changeling's" eyes when he is a Marine in the Bataan Death March of 1942. The Bataan experience is the "changeling's" induction to the human condition. From that point forward, the "changeling's" attempt to understand humanity reminds us just how fundametally the world has changed since the global crisis of World War II.

The first third of Camouflage is an exciting read, but I was frustrated by an inability to connect with the "changeling" protagonist. This is possibly the most ingenious part of the book: the "changeling" is not human, but gradually begins to take on some human characteristics. Its alien and predatory otherness slowly errodes, and as it is slowly surprised to find itself becoming more and more human, the reader gradually begins to have a grudging sort of empathy with it.

Empathy with the "changeling" is further heightened by its foil, the "chameleon." Like the "changeling," the "chameleon" is an immortal, adaptable being- but not quite so adaptable as the changeling. The "chameleon" can alter its appearance to look like a variety of human males, but is unable to become a woman or a non-living object. The "chameleon" war hops through hundreds of years of human history, always on the lookout for another being like itself. Unlike the "chameleon," he never drops his predatory, inhuman instincts.

The foil of the "changeling" and the "chameleon" seems to suggest that the more flexible and adaptable the creature, the better the possiblity for empathy and compassion with other beings. But which of the two models is best suited to survive? And how can humanity participate in the revolution of adaptability? Haldeman answers these question, but I don't want to spoil the exciting conclusion of the book for those who haven't read it.

If you look through the titles of Haldeman's books, you can begin to see a definite theme: The Forever War, Study War No More, Vietnam and Other Alien Worlds, War Stories, A Separate War, and let's not forget his debut 1972 short novel, War Year.

I don't mean to suggest that Haldeman is a one-note Johnny. My favorite Haldeman book, The Hemmingway Hoax, is caught up with a very different subject (a certain famous lost valise). But there's no denying that Haldeman's Vietnam experience informs his writing. Vietnam isn't just coloring the way he can describe the smell of miserable prisoners packed in a train and headed for slaughter- it makes up an important part of what he has to say. Camouflage asks big questions about humanity's develoment as a species since everything changed in World War II. What is the role of compassion in our survival as a species? How adaptable have we been and can we be to changing circumstances?

What does it mean to be human?

That's hardly a new question- but it's such a good one, that it seems worthwhile to keep asking it. The possible answers seem to be as varied and numerous as the men and women suggesting them.

Pink Elephants on Parade

A friend of mine from Bangalore, India sent me a link to a Discovery Channel program called "The Lost Temples of India." The first temple to be explored is the Tanjore Shrine built by Rajaraja Chola I. If you've ever seen one of these Discovery Channel shows on ancient wonders, you know it's almost obligatory to do a modern day recreation of some architectural feat to understand how it would be possible for an incredible structure, such as the Tanjore Shrine, to have been built without the aid of modern machinery.

It turns out that Rajaraja kept a whole herd of war elephants, and historians speculate that these massive animals helped move the stone from the quarry to the building site. Think Flinstones, but with elephants instead of wooly mammoths. The recreation on the Discovery Channel program showed two elephants dragging a massive piece of stone over logs. Men ran behind them, grabbing the logs left in their wake, and using them to create more rolling track ahead.

But what really caught me about this documentary was not the fact that these creatures could move enormous weights- it was the bit of the film that talked about the Rajajraja's use of elephants in war. They immediately brought to mind Tolkien's oliphaunts.

First, to please Professor Tolkien, let's talk a little about the etymology of this word. In Middle Earth, it is only hobbits who refer to these enormous creatures as oliphaunts. They are known to Gondorians as mûmak.

But it is the word oliphaunt that sticks with us, probably because it sounds quite a lot like elephant, and because we identify most easily with the hobbits.

We can be certain Tolkien was familiar with the olifant horn, a battle horn made from the ivory tusk of an elephant. The olifant played a critical role in the Song of Roland, in which the hero is too proud to blow his olifant for help in battle, until it is too late.

"Oliphant" still survives as a Middle English word for elephant. It came down to the English tongue through various roots describing both camels and elephants, having roots of elef- in Greek and Latin languages, and having roots of of olb- and ulb- from Germanic languages.

But no matter how you spell it, there is no doubt these were powerful, dangerous creatures in war. So, back to historical war elephants to learn a little about how they were used.

Trained for battle by mahouts, war elephants were something like modern day tanks. They could move armies at incredible speeds toward battle, and cut through ranks of enemies with the razor sharp blades on their trunks. They could trample cavalry without even trying. Spear throwers on their backs struck at the mounted and foot soldiers below.

But don't forget that these war elephants had it pretty tough. They were beseiged by a number of horrors. First of all, hundreds or thousands of screaming, armed men were surrounding them. War elephants were an obvious first target, a tactical target to be taken down straight away. Enemies would swarm to strike the elephant's legs and bring them down.

Secondly, it was common practice to send animals with lit straw on their backs charging and smoking at the elephants in order to frighten them. I read one report (Roman) in which live pigs were doused in sticky oil and lit afire. Their shrieking was known to cause intense terror to the elephants (poor pigs, too!!!).

So how did the mahouts get the elephants to plunge into the terror of battle? Just as a human warrior might bolster his courage with a little alcohol, the elephants were given fermented rice liquor before they were driven to fight. The mahouts quite literally got them drunk.

So, as I sat thinking of war elephants, and the great vats of rice liquor into which they must have thrust their trunks, do you know what started going through my head?

That's right: Dumbo. You know the scene where he gets a little tipsy? There are a million cartoon elephants dancing in bubbles around his head, and they play the song "Pink Elephants on Parade."

Goofy? Sure. But it's a heck of a lot more fun to think about than those poor pigs! And you've got to admit it's a catchy tune.

Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch!

"Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!"

Can anyone guess the source of the quote? Who is this hideous monster, Moloch? And who wrote about him?

Points for trying if you said The Bible. Close, but no cigar.

If, like me, the first thing you thought of was "I Robot, You Jane" (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 1), you don't get any points at all.

The winner is: Allen Ginsberg writing Part II of his famous poem, Howl. Yes, you've heard of it. Let me quote the more famous opening of Part I:

"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked."

And if all that brings to mind is "I Should Be Allowed To Think" by They Might Be Giants, then you really should read Howl in all its depressing Beat Generation rage.

So, if Ginsberg isn't referring to Buffy or They Might Be Giants, who is this Moloch he's talking about?

Ginsberg's reference to Moloch no doubt comes from The Bible. Moloch had his origins as an old tribal god, whose various names float around the letters "M," "L," and "K.". Moloch's favorite supper was roasted baby- and the Old Testament does its best to discourage the Sons of Israel from letting Moloch burn and devour their children. As a result of his bad reputation in the Old Testament, Moloch became associated with demonology.

So what is Moloch doing stalking the streets of Manhattan in Howl? Well, my husband and wikipedia both agree that Moloch is standing in for American consumerism. I'd agree...but I'd say Moloch the Corrupter runs even deeper than frustration with capitalism.

Human beings have to do a lot of disagreeable things in order to survive. True, the skyscrapers, electricity, and banks mentioned in Ginsberg's poem are particular traits of American consumerism. But what about those armies? Even back in the Old Testament we read about fighting wars. Money is hardly new, and even banks have been around for a good, long while. So, humanity has always been making compromises- killing animals for food, killing other men to defend their families, struggling day-to-day to survive conditions of "filth" and "ugliness."

There's no doubt that the American lifestyle beginning to make itself evident in the 1950's was taking the old Moloch and turning him into a huge, smoking, mass-produced nightmare, so big that he was impossible to ignore. I don't doubt that it was enough to make Ginsberg scream- and he chose to do it in meter.

One last point before we get too hard on the U.S. of the mid 1950's. Let's remember that a certain Englishman by the name of Tolkien was publishing The Lord of the Rings right around the time that Howl was first performed and published. Tolkein's cry for the lost innocence of an unindustrialized civilization in England was rendered far diferently than Ginsberg's howl at American consumerism- but both men were reacting to the same contemporary problems.

The Brief History of the Dead

"How many people was any one human being likely to remember? A thousand?...Ten Thousand? A hundred thousand? A million?"

This is the question posed by Kevin Brockmeier, author of The Brief History of the Dead. Brockmeier postulates an afterlife in stages, a sort of pleasant purgatory in which the departed live in "The City," going about their daily business: drinking coffee, going to work, reading the newspaper, dating, eating, and going to the movies. The only unusual thing about life in "The City" is that its inhabitants never age- they simply fade away at the death of the last person who remembers them in the world of the living.

Most residents adapt to life in "The City" pretty well. They set up shops, find roomates, and swap stories about their deaths. It is not unusual for new arrivals to find departed friends and family members. The reunited can have another chance to spend their lives together for forty or fifty years- or until there's no one left alive who remembers them.

But what happens when a pandemic strikes the world of the living? At first there's a surge of newcomers to "The City." Then, as fewer and fewer people are left alive to remember the dead, "The City" becomes a ghost town.

At this point we get down to the question of how many people one human being can remember- because that's exactly how many people are left alive: one.

The Brief History of the Dead follows the one surviving human on Earth as she struggles to eke out one more day of existence, then another. Her chapters alternate with the breathless wait of those in "The City" who depend on her survival for their very existence.

I can remember being asked to do a writing excercise, in which the first step was to write down every person I had ever met. It didn't matter if I could remember all their names: the smiling girl at the bagel shop, or the man with the earring who sells newspapers, was fine.

If you've ever compiled a list like this, as City resident Michael Puckett did, you might be not only surprised, but overwhelmed by the number of people who have intersected your life.

Michael Puckett went about making his list like I did: immediate and extended family, schoolmates, teachers, childhood friends, people you knew in high school and college, neighbors from every place you've lived. Co-workers. People you met in social and religious groups. Old girlfriends (boyfriends) and the people they knew. Friends of your children, people you met attending a wedding reception. Business contacts (like your insurance man, house contractor). Commercial contacts (that girl from the bagel store). As soon as Michael thinks his categories are complete, he remembers his Boy Scout troup, some guys from the gym, a woman he had seen at the library once "and for some reason had never forgotten." His dentist.

At the end of several days of trying to write down every single person he can remember, Michael did what I did: came across some family members he was very embarrassed not to have thought of right away, then tallied his list. Interested in Michael's census? He came up with the number forty-two thousand.

Whether this final total was inspired by the Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything, is subject to debate. But this staggering total is definitely the "answer" to this book.

What happens to us after we die? I don't know, and neither, I suspect, does Kevin Brockmeier. The deep chord struck in this book is not in speculating about the afterlife; it is the reflection of how we effect and are effected by the hundreds and thousands of other human beings passing through our lives. Memories of the people we've known haunt us- even when they're not dead.

Sit down and don't get up until you've filled three notebook pages with the names or descriptions of all the people you can remember. You'll see what I mean.

Metamaterials

Not quite Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, but not far from the cloaking devices envisioned by Star Trek, metamaterials are in the news this week.

The first thing to understand about invisibility, is the kind of invisibility you are talking about. When we're thinking of Harry Potter's cloak, we're thinking of invisibility to light waves. If we go the sf route, we could talk about being invisible to electromagnetic waves, sound waves, microwaves, radar waves, infrared waves, ect.

Light wave invisibility, the kind of invisibility that would fool the human eye, is theoretically possible. How does it work? Metamaterials have a negative refraction index. In laymen's terms, this means they can form a shell around the object to be hidden, then act like light wave crossing guards, ushering the light waves away from the hidden object.

Before you get too excited, keep in mind that whatever form of radiation is blocked from "seeing" the hidden object, also prevents the hidden object from "seeing" out! If you're using your metamaterial shell to hide your "Ancestral Recall" MtG card from your brother, no problem. But if you plan to wrap a metamaterial shell around yourself to sneak out of the house, think again. Your mom couldn't see you, but you couldn't see where you were going. You'd be falling down the staircase and stepping on the family dog- unless you had a reliable navigation system in place, using sonar waves, for instance, to make up for your inability to see light waves.

One more caveat- this more important in military use than for sneaking out of the house (unless Mom has x-ray vision or super hearing)- to be truly, completely invisible means to be undetectable. That means the metamaterial wrapper must be able to hide what's inside from all the types of radiation (electromagnetic, sonar, radar, ect.) that could possibly detect it. To quote David Schurig from Duke University:

"If [you] want to cover the whole visible spectrum, that would [be] a tall order."

Dobby Stones

I was doing some research on Creatures of English Folklore for a fantasy short story, when I came across an entry for "Dobby: A hobgoblin belonging to Yorkshire and Lancashire." The site also mentioned a "Dobie" as a type of brownie. Indeed,the wikipedia entry on J.K. Rowling's character, Dobby, claims the brownie definition.

But one more thing, before we say Dobie, Dobby, who cares...there is also something in UK folklore called "Dobby Stones." I did some quick research on them, and they appear to be stones with holes in them. The holes hold offerings to the fairies.

In Scotland, Dobby Stones are believed to hold milk offerings to Grugach, goddess of the well-being of cattle.

I've even found Dobby (or Dobie) referenced as a "bogeyman." Fearful folk thus hung Dobby Stones over their doorways for protection from Dobbies, with or without the extra b!

No doubt Rowling intended the more friendly, garden-variety UK sprite as basis for her character.

Computer Technology in "The Greening of Bed-Stuy"

It was 1984 when Frederik Pohl published "The Greening of Bed-Stuy". War Games had just been a 1983 movie hit, portraying the cracker as anti-hero. More anti-hero cracker movies followed in the early nineties, including Sneakers (1992) and Hackers (1995). That same year, The Net became a smash hit, portraying the cracker not as an anti-hero, but as the villian in a thriller movie. It isn't a surprise that movies about crackers were popular in 1995, when the world wide web was becoming a common term in the average American household (see The Creation of the Internet). Nor is it surprising that the movie-going public was willing to see computer geniuses as both loveable anti-hero nerds and serious potential threats.

But why, in 1984, did Frederik Pohl write a movie in which the cracker was a villian? Was he worried about evildoers messing with his Gameline Atari 2600 system?

"The Greening of Bed-Stuy" struck me as a story without a coherent POV or plot. We are engaged in the adventures of a Brooklyn elementary school student playing hookie, a dying woman, a blind man, an escaping convict, and an ex-hooker. Pohl loosely ties these people together, mostly by family relation and circumstance. But often he spends pages on a scene that has little, if anything to do with the plot of the tale.

For example, early in the story we're drawn into the pathos of a woman whose body is practically dead. She is kept alive by machine. Her vocal chords are gone, and a computer must read her brain waves and turn her thought into speech. Her brain is being slowly poisoned, she is on the verge of death, and she must make an important decision about whether to live the last anguishing days of her life, die, or be frozen in hopes of finding a future cure.

Next we get some insight into the life of a blind engineer. His biological visual apparatus is so ruined, that there is no way his eyes can be repaired. Machines will have to do all his seeing for him. To keep him from bumping into things, his head is fixed with a nifty sf device that allows blobby shapes to be sent into his brain. At work, he is able to continue being productive using a machine that cost him a small fortune to manufacture. It has a camera that turns a picture into a detailed topography that the blind man can caress with his hands, allowing him to "see" the progress of his construction site, to "see" the changing emotions on a person's face.

Do you see the correlation between the dying woman and the blind man? They are both physically deformed, and computers (technology) have to help their brains interact with the outside world.

Then the plot moves to a prison break. We learn about a cracker who has embarked in a life of crime out of sheer boredom. He can make a computer do anything, and lawful employment in the technology field is simply no challenge. When he gets caught, life inside the big house converts him from a bored computer genius to an actual criminal. The cracker is being held in a high security prison. Escape is impossible because of a high-tech, computerized surveillance system. Prisoners can't move from place to place without the ID tags on their ankles being read by scanners. The computers will alert the guards if an inmate takes a single step anyplace he isn't scheduled to go. This computer-reliant system makes escape impossible for most prisoners, but not for the cracker.

There it is again- the insertion of technology between a human and his environment- in this case between human and human. "Shouldn't it be the guards' responsibility to watch the prisoners?" Pohl asks between the lines. "Why is there a layer of technology getting between the human guards and the human prisoners?"

Once seen in this light- as a cautionary tale about what can happen when our thoughts and actions have a computer as a go-between, the disparate concerns in "The Greening of Bed-Stuy" begin to form a coherent story.

Beyond Imagination:
The World of Science Fiction Fantasy and Art

This Saturday, University College London is hosting a conference for science fiction and fantasy artists. The conference, called "Beyond Imagination," is being organized by The Association of Illustrators.

Keynote speakers whom I immediately recognized were Alan Lee and Dave McKean.

I recognized McKean from his work on MirrorMask (see my post on MirrorMask).

Alan Lee, of course, is the famed Tolkein illustrator who teamed up with John Howe to create the splendid conceptual artwork for Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Perhaps my husband made me watch the special features disks of the Trilogy one too many times- but I have come to believe that the cinematic success of these films is largely due to Alan Lee and John Howe. These artists were able to translate the historical backstory that fueled the books into a visual backstory, which fueled the film.

I was also vaguely familiar with the name of another keynote speaker: Fred Gambino. Turns out he's done, among other things, a ton of cover art for Asimov's and Interzone.

Born without the ability to draw a stick figure, I am in awe of people who create fantasy scapes out of pigments and parchment. I think they're magical, and the field of speculative fiction would lose some of its magic without the visual arts.

It's worth checking out the Association of Illustrator's website. They have browseable portfolios up online- what fun! My personal favorite portfolio was Jenny Lloyd's. I loved the Eastern aesthetic of her art, and the way she used simple designs to create a sense of wonder.

Isn't evoking a sense of wonder what the field of science fiction and fantasy is all about?

Enkidu is Dead

Is anyone surprised that the world's oldest story, Gilgamesh, has the makings of a great speculative fiction tale?

Translator Stephen Mitchell writes:

"The hero of this epic is...a superman. [By] attacking a monster, he brings on himself a disaster that can only be overcome by an agonizing journey."

That sounds like the synopsis of a fantasy story. And let's not forget that Gilgamesh also boasts the world's first really nasty monster:

"Humbaba, whose roar booms forth like a thunderclap, whose breath spews fire, whose jaws are death."

It takes not one, but two supermen to go up against the likes of Humbaba.

Older than the Bible or the Illiad, Gilgamesh comes to us from engraved cuneiform stone tablets unearthed in Nineveh around 1844. One of the first bits to be translated was the account of Utnapishtim- a man who got warning of a Great Flood being stirred up by one of the gods to punish "sinful mankind." Fortunately, the gods gave him detailed instructions on how to build a great ship, capable of holding Utnapishtim's family, and "animals, wild and tame...of every kind." After raging for six days and seven nights, the storm and rain die down, and Utnapishtim sets a series of birds free from the ship. When the last bird, a raven, does not return, he knows dry land has been found.

Sound familiar? Utnapishtim gets a much better deal for his trouble than Noah did. Utnapishtim is rewarded for his journey with the seaweed equivalent of the Philosopher's Stone- the consuption of which grants him eternal life. As it so happens, eternal life is precisely what Gilgamesh is questing for.

Is it just me, or would this epic make a great MMO?

A Gilgamesh MMO would call for major parental guidance. Gilgamesh is no pre-Biblical religious tract- it's an adventure story, and sexuality enters frankly into the tale. No coy allusion to be found here- forget symbols of snakes and apples. When the storyteller wants to name a body part, he names it.

Enkidu, Gilgamesh's superhero double, is brought to life by the gods, but he is brought to civilization by a one of the priestesses who "give their body to any man". Here are the instructions given to Shamhat:

"Now use your love-arts. Strip off your robe and lie here naked with your legs apart...touch him, excite him, take his breath with your kisses."

I selected this as a mild passage in the Enkidu-Shamat scene. It gets much more graphic.

I could go even crazier here and suggest that Gilgamesh's passage to the underworld reminded me of 2001, but there's no need to go nuts. I think fire-breathing monsters, prototype superheroes, the mystical appearance of an "other self," magic plants, and a quest for eternal life, all fall easily within the scope of speculative fiction.

And throughout it all, Gilgamesh keeps asking something human beings have speculated about, apparently, since the beginning of time:

"Must I die too? Must I be as lifeless as Enkidu?"

An Introduction to Heechee

"Before Gateway came 'The Merchants of Venus'."
-Platinum Pohl

It turns out I'm reading about the Heechee in the same order that Frederik Pohl wrote about them- though not, interestingly enough, in fictional chronological order. The 1976 novel explains how human explorers discover ancient Heechee ruins on Venus. This 1972 short story takes place when treasure hunters long for the day when there were still Heechee tunnels left unexplored.

"The Merchants of Venus" (no pun on the Shakespeare play intended) portrays Audee Walthers struggle for survival. On Venus no money means no food, no water, no oxygen. Ouch. To make matters worse, Walthers has no Medicare, and if he doesn't get together money for medical treatment in a matter of months, he'll die.

Enter rich tourist Boyce Cochenour. He's a ninety-year-old from Earth who looks forty, and is running on more replacement parts than original organs. He looks good enough to attract the attention of a young and not unattractive companion, Dorotha.

Boyce's "been there done that" boredom makes him the perfect sponsor for a treasure hunt. Audee thinks he's got a map to buried treasure- which on Venus means an unexplored Heechee tunnel, hopefully laden with Heechee artefacts that will revolutionize human technology and make him rich enough to afford that liver transplant.

Of course, the chance of finding an unexplored Heechee tunnel is about equivalent to winning the lottery. But for Audee, it's his last chance to keep breathing.

Exciting, humorous, and gently cynical, "The Merchants of Venus" isn't Shakespeare, but it's an awfully fun read.

HUNGUR Magazine

I just received my contributer's copy of HUNGUR Magazine in the mail. The issue has an Egyptian-themed cover done by Marge Simon. Egyptian themes are echoed in Allyson Bird's story "Blood in Madness Ran," in Marge Simon's poem "When You Were Queen," and is mentioned in Edward Cox's article, "For the Dead Move Fast."

My story, "Daughter of Night" is on page 9. My bio is in the back, complete with a link to my website.

You can see an image of the cover and purchase the issue (or subscribe to the magazine) at the genre mall.

I'm looking forward to reading the issue. It is, to quote the editor, "overflowing with poetry and fiction."

Nebula Award Winners Announced

Kelly Link did well at the Nebula Awards this weekend, bringing home the award for best Novella and Novelette. "The Faery Handbag" appeared in The Faery Reel .

I went to the NYC signing of The Faery Reel (see April 3, 2006), though Link was not present. But Holly Black was!

Black is now the first ever winner of the Andre Norton Award! This new award category is for best young adult science fiction or fantasy. Black won the award for her novel, Valliant .

Joss Whedon took the script award for Serenity .

I've read both of the Kelly Link pieces, the Holly Black novel, and seen Serenity . I'm pleased with the SFWA's selections! ;-)

Joe Haldeman took the big novel prize home for Camouflauge . I'm a Haldeman fan, so I'm looking forward to reading this book.

Carol Emshwiller won best short story for a piece that appeared in the March 2005 F&SF . I was in Italy and missed this issue, so I'll be looking for it in other venues.

The Nebulas Are Coming!

The 2006 Nebula Award Weekend is coming up (May 4th- May 7th). The event will be hosted in Tempe, Arizona.

The main event will be the announcement of the 2005 Nebula Awards. Categories are for best novel (x>40,000), best novella (17,500>x>40,000), best novellette (7,500>x>17,500), best short story (7,500>x), and best script.

It's interesting to note that, unlike the Hugo Award, the Nebula has a "rolling eligibility" system, which basically means that fiction can be considered for the award for one year after publication date. To be eligible for the Hugo Award, publication must fall in the calendar year of 2005. Wikipedia cites the interesting case of William Shun's novelette, "Dance of the Yellow-Breasted Luddites." Published in July 2000, it "ended up" on the 2001 ballot, and the award was presented in 2002.

Another difference between the Nebula and Hugo, is that the Nebula is strictly an affair of the SFWA. They vote on the preliminary ballot and the final ballot (10 preliminary ballot votes are needed to make it to the final ballot). Awards are presented at Gala events like the one to be hosted this weekend.

The Hugo, on the other hand, is chosen by science fiction fans, and is awarded at Worldcon. This year's Worldcon will be held in L.A. this August.

Check out the public version of the Hugo final ballot- it's sure to offer a great start to your summer reading list. And notice how many works of fiction- from novel to short story length- have links to a Fictionwise download!

Battlestar Conflict

I was overseas when the Battlestar Galactica Miniseries and Season 1.0 first aired. On returning to the U.S., I checked out part of a Season 2.0 episode, wasn't particularly engaged, and left it at that.

On the strength of several recommendations, not the least of which was the fact that the series won both Nebula and Hugo awards for 2005, I got my hands on the miniseries and checked it out.

The Battlestar Galactica Miniseries is like a textbook for creating and maintaining conflict. Every action was both resolving a conflict, and creating fuel for further conflict to come. As a result, dramatic tension never let up for a minute.

Whether the conflict was "galactic" (human vs. Cylon), political (civilian vs. military), ethical (who lives, who dies), interpersonal (Adama vs. Apollo, for example), or internal (Gaius Baltar's journey), there was always a decision to be made and the consequences of either choice were always vital to the viewer and the characters.

That's how you make a great science fiction dramatic presentation! I was inspired to look at my own work, to make sure the forward motion in my writing is always being fed by the flames of conflict.

I'm looking forward to seeing how the series' masters of generating conflict keep up the tension in Season 1.0.

What's wrong with a "god's-eye-view"?

Working through Writing Fiction , I came upon a frank description of the history of the third person omniscient. Some of this history resonates with my very first blog post, "Anansi Boys and the English/American Divide" (March 14, 2006), in which I discussed how American spec fiction writers try to hide the voice of the author in order to aid their readers with suspension of disbelief, while their English counterparts are more willing to let the voice of the author creep in.

Valerie Vogrin begins her lesson on POV by telling us that she's going to offer us a buffet of POV options, so that we can make informed decisions about how we tell our stories, instead of letting patterns unconsciously absorbed by reading choose the POV for us.

Great, I could eat.

When we come to third person omniscient, Vogrin explains that traditional literature was written using this "god's-eye-view" POV, citing Dickens, Tolstoy, and Flaubert as influential authors who used third person omniscient.

Then Vogrin goes on to say,

"Soon thereafter a variety of social changes occurred related to the rise of democracy...,Freud, religious skepticism, feminism...which over time resulted in the (now seemingly paternal, heavy-handed...) omniscient point of view falling out of favor with contemporary writers."

I was shocked when I read this sentence, both because I felt Vogrin's conclusions were overly polarized and, at the same time, that her evaluation accurately describes the state of American literature today .

Now, later on, Vogrin tells us that some postmodern authors, Kundera, for example, were able to use the third person omniscient to good effect "without adopting a biblical tone or throwing thunderbolts."

Wow. Strong statements. Is that what Dickens, Tolstoy, and Flaubert were doing? Drawing on my personal experience reading the works of these authors, the answer is a resounding NO!

Vogrin finishes her instruction by touting the good points of third person omniscient: an ability to deepen conflict by seeing others' points of view; giving the reader an almost painful knowledge of a situation the protagonist cannot know (our engagement in the story grows as we see how the protagonist must act blindly, doing his best, unaware of the information we, the readers, have).

But, she warns, third person omniscient is rarely used today because "it calls attention to the writer- an undesirable thing for writers who want their readers to suspend disbelief willingly."

My purpose in this post is not to disparage Vogrin's lesson on POV. She gave sound, down-to-earth advice that is an accurate reflection of the state of modern American literature- speculative or otherwise.

But I question her assertion that a world after democracy, Freud, religious skepticism, and feminism, need necessarily find third person omniscient a hindrance to the reader's suspension of disbelief.

After all, citizens of the UK vote- women included. Similar relgious, political, philosophical, and psychological changes have occurred in parallel in America and abroad. So can we point to the reactionary-black/white-polarized nature of American culture as the root of this anti-paternal, anti-"god's-eye-view" attitude?

Eastercon 2006

A writer friend of mine in the UK just emailed to tell me what a blast he had at Eastercon 2006 (or, more officially, the 57th Annual British Science Fiction Convention). Eastercon 2006 was held in Glasgow, Scotland.

If you're wondering why all these Anglophone science fiction conventions are being held at the same time, and why they're being held from Friday to Monday, all I can tell you is that Easter Monday is a pretty popular holiday in English and non-English speaking countries around the globe. You've got it- three day weekend- perfect for getting some science fiction authors and fans together and having fun.

You can learn about results of the British Science Fiction Awards, the Masquerade, and how attendees ate the hotel out of butter and ketchup at http://www.connewsletter.co.uk/.

I was especially pleased to note that Geoff Ryman won "Best Novel of 2005" for Air and that Kelly Link was honored with "Best Short Fiction" for "Magic for Beginners."

I applaud British science fiction connoisseurs for their excellent taste!

Take a virtual tour of of Conjure

If, like me, you didn't travel to the Conjure Science Fiction Convention in Brisbane, Australia, you can experience the high points of the convention online on Articulate's Conjure: day by day.

Coverage of the event includes recorded speeches by Cory Doctorow and Bruce Sterling, interviews, and lots of photos, including snapshots from the Arabian Nights Masquerade Ball. You'll find lots of advice for writers from industry insiders, and some good, old-fashioned swordfighting fun!

"The biggest problem for most authors isn't piracy, it's obscurity."
-Tim O'Reilly quoted by Cory Doctorow

Doctorow is Down Under, a guest of honor speaker at the 45th Annual National Science Fiction Convention in Brisbane, Australia. Today in part one of a two part interview with Articulate, Gary Kemble asked Doctorow about his decision to release his books in electronic format- FOR FREE .

I mentioned Doctorow in an earlier post (Adding to the Whuffie, March 16,2006), and the fact that Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom is as famous for its innovative Creative Commons copyright as it is for its entertaining plot and nifty futuristic concepts.

In today's Articulate interview, Doctorow tells us a little bit about why he decided to give his great science fiction books away FOR FREE .

The reasons, in my interpretation of order of importance, are as follows:

1) Science fiction authors get readership by word of mouth. And if you think word of mouth is powerful, just think about spreading the word via online bulletin boards, discussion groups, mailing lists, forwarded emails, googling for something to read.

2) "I didn't see it plausible that it would be possible to effectively restrict the copying of electronic books." (direct quote from Doctorow)

Doctorow is part of a group of spec fiction authors and publishing houses who believe that distributing eBooks online for free may improve readership and book sales in the United States.

Doctorow says that when he made the decision, he didn't know where his income would come from. He saw visions of donations by happy readers, commissioned articles, speaking engagements- clearly that portion of his theory has panned out. But, most importantly, Doctorow says that he had a gut feeling that giving away books would sell books.

So, I looked up the amazon.com sales rank for Doctow's latest book, Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town . Today his sales rank is 206,575 . That puts him on par with books like Steve Martin's Shopgirl (recently made into a film).

So, is Doctorow at the top of the sf best seller list? No.

But he's hardly on the bottom, either.

I compared the sales rank for Doctorow's most recent book to those of his fellow speakers at the conference this weekend. Results are as follows:

Bruce Sterling: 37,462 Visionary in Residence
Sean Williams: 483,198 The Crooked Letter
Kim Wilkins: 443,042 The Autumn Castle

At worst, Doctorow's innovative approach to publishing isn't doing him any harm. And I'm curious to see what the future holds for Doctorow. He has and will always have a special place in the hearts of the technology-loving science fiction audience.

A Brooklyn Story

It turns out I'm in good company as a science fiction writer living in Brooklyn.

Frederik Pohl is one of those huge names in science fiction I've always known, but somehow I had categorized this sf great as an editor, not a writer. We'll call it the sort of mistake you can expect from my creative genius mind.

Pohl was indeed the editor of Galaxy and If magazines, and, according to Wikipedia, he "acquired and edited" books for Bantam in the 1970's. Wikipedia also has a great picture of an old issue of Galaxy . My favorite sf author, Robert Heinlein, is featured on the cover. This was the issue in which "The Puppet Masters" appeared. Too cool!

Pohl was also an active member of the Futurians, an influential, New York-based group of sf writers and editors (the most famous of whom was Issac Asimov) who defined themselves quite literally as forward-thinking.

Now for the part that my brain had amazingly not absorbed: Pohl was also a prolific writer. I'm sure this is no news to you, but I looked through his bibliography to see the extent of what I'd missed.

His most award-winning series was the Gateway series, which apparently relates the story of an alien space base, filled with space ships that human explorers find, but have no idea how to use. People get into these ships and are whisked away to destinations unknown. Wikipedia summarizes, "Some lead to fortune, but others lead to death."

This is enough of a description to make me want to read.

In November 2005, Tor came out with Platinum Pohl : The Collected Best Stories . The stories span his career, from a struggling young writer living in Brooklyn, up to more recent times, when he was already a Hugo and Nebula award winner.

One of the stories in Platinum Pohl is called "The Greening of Bed-Stuy," in which, according to Marc Schogol writing for The Pueblo Chieftan,

"Pohl writes about a slum in his native Brooklyn where attempts to create heaven on earth for the ghetto residents are frustrated by those who, in every sense, make a killing off the existing poverty and suffering."

Platinum Pohl looks like an excellent place for a Pohl newbie to start reading. This morning I reserved the book from the Brooklyn Public Library. A Brooklyn author writing a Brooklyn science fiction story- I wouldn't have wanted to get my hands on the book any other way.

Giving Talk at Writer's Group

This evening I am giving a talk for the Friggin' Write Creative Writer's Group from 7-9 p.m.

I'll be discussing the process I use to get from finished manuscript to published story, including market selection, manuscript preparation and submission, submission tracking, and how to proceed after acceptance or rejection.

Into the Shadow World

This weekend I got my first taste of the Chronicles of Amber by Roger Zelazny. Nine Princes in Amber was dedicated to main character Corwin's initiation into the fantasy realm of Amber. See, the book (and thus the series) starts out with the tone of a typical sf or spy/thriller 1970's novel. There is nothing magical- simply an amnesiac who wakes up in a hospital, certain only that someone tried to kill him and someone else is keeping him heavily sedated and locked up. A large portion of the book is dedicated to Corwin remembering who he really is- and in the process, understanding that Amber is the real world, and the world we all know to be "real" is just a shadow.

Zelazny uses Corwin's amnesia to make him, like the reader, an initiate into the fantasy world. This technique is used in many fantasy novels. Compare Harry Potter, raised outside the wizarding community, introduced to magic along with the reader. This threshold crossing element is also critical to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe - emphasis on the wardrobe , the link that takes the Pevensie children from their reality into Narnia. To me, the most magical part of the story has always been this threshold transition. And if the inclusion of wardrobe in the title doesn't convince you of the major part the threshold plays in the structure of the fantasy, take a look at this one sentence plot summary of the recently released film version :

"Four kids travel through a wardrobe to the land of Narnia and learn of their destiny to free it with the guidance of a lion messiah." (from the internet movie database)

The threshold crossing takes up nearly half of this brief summary.

It's interesting to note that many fantasy authors skip the transition from the real world to the fantasy world. Tolkein is an excellent example of this style- possibly because to Tolkein, Middle Earth was quite real. Other authors have taken their cue from Tolkein, and simply assumed our presence in the fantasy world as a convention of the genre. Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series and George R.R. Martin's A Song of Fire and Ice jump to my mind as immediate examples of making no "excuses" for being in the middle of a fantasy story. No connection to the "real" world, or in Zelazny's case, the world as we know it, is necessary.

What do we lose by omitting the threshold? What do we gain?

Three Tears for Crash

Ok, LA screenwriters, what's up with using snow as a shorthand for miracles? I understand it's a rare and precious event in southern California, but for a large part of your audience it's just everyday, annoying February, and the styrofoam gets stuck in the actors' hair.

Why do we put up with styrofoam snow? For movies like Crash .

Crash is not a speculative film. Many of the characters believe they have witnessed miracles (an invisible cape impervious to bullets, the Muslim version of an angel), but the viewer knows that there are real-world explanations for these "miracles." I've brought Crash to this spec fiction journal because its incredible handling of characters has changed the way I look at my writing.

Earlier I described my dissatisfaction with the "bad guy" in Falling Free . Well, Crash has no "bad guys" and no "good guys," either. The film is incredibly human, the characters all antagonists and protagonists to each other. Not only is this an accurate model of the way people interact in the real world, but it creates a gut-wrenching connection between the viewer and the characters on screen. I cried for hours after seeing this film.

Using characters of disparate ethnic an social backgrounds (instead of aliens, bioengineered clones, fairies, or magicians as a spec fiction writer might), the viewer was allowed to "see the story" of each person. A racist cop is also a devoted son crushed by his father's deteriorating health. A locksmith who looks like a "gang member with his pants around his ass" to a wealthy LA housewife is just a husband and father doing his best to shield his family from inner city violence. It is heartbreaking to see how people can live so close together and interact so violently, while understanding each other so little.

Of course, we wouldn't know the stories of any of these people if it we weren't allowed a peek into their private lives, if we didn't have a multiple perspective that let us see into their points of view.

This multiple perspective point of view is a critical ingredient in my novel-length ficton, and in the fantasy and science fiction of some of my favorite authors. George R. R. Martin's A Song of Fire and Ice is an excellente example of a multiple point of view in which the reader is actively "rooting" for every character. The point of view switches so constantly, that chapters are titled with characters' names. The reader may agree or disagree with the decisions made by the characters, but she always understands why the choice was made. I was so emotionally moved by the experience of reading this book, that I'm putting off reading the next in Martin's series for a cheerier time.

I'd love to hear about other fantasy and science fiction books that successfully blend a rotating, multiple perspective narrative to create gut wrenching, human fiction. I'd also love to see more of it being written- our audience responds to this type of narrative on film, and they will respond to it in fiction.

I have long favored the multiple perspective technique, but I hadn't realized why I was writing in this way. Watching Crash and formulating this journal entry, I found the answer. I want to use the exaggerated stage of speculative fiction to show that all people live side-by-side, alone, never completely understanding each other. I want to think about ways that we can change that, and offer examples of how to learn the "stories" of the people we think we know (but don't), of the cultures we think we know (but don't). Understanding is the only way to make "miracles" happen, to avoid conflict and violence.

While I wrote this post it started snowing outside. Not unheard of on an April day in Brooklyn, but I wasn't expecting snow.

Somebody in LA is probably smiling.

Falling for Falling Free

Bruce Van Atta was complaining about a log jam of messages in his corporate email account back in 1988. Why? Because he was a GalacTech Exec in Lois McMaster Bujold's Falling Free .

The Nebula award winning book showed me that corporate ethics were just as much a concern in the 1980's as they are today. It's just that I was too busy learning to ride my bike to pay attention.

For those who are fans of the Miles Vorkosigan series, know that Falling Free is a stand-alone, though it does take place in the same universe that will later host Miles Vorkosigan.

Falling Free was an engaging, page-turning read. I loved the way the engineer protagonist was thrust into a very human and political situation completely out of the realm of his expertise. Leo Graff's transformation is brought about by meeting the quaddies, bioengineered space station workers who are being mistreated and manipulated by GalacTech. The plight of the quaddies thrusts the no-nonsense engineer into the thick of corporate politics. But once Leo commmits himself to helping the quaddies, his engineering problem solving capabilities and nuts and bolts expertise are absoultely vital to saving them.

I had such a great time reading this book, but I do have one complaint. The main antagonist, GalachTech Executive Bruce Van Atta, was a one-dimensional bad guy. He was greedy, lazy, unethical, and even impolite. I would have appreciated a more sympathetic antagonist, doing something he knew was wrong in order to protect something or someone he cared about. The possibilities for Van Atta's motivation were endless. He could have been trying to get home to his wife, keeping GalachTech from firing him and taking away his retirement benefits, covering up an accidental mistake earlier in his career. Throughout the read I felt very strongly that Leo Graff, the quaddies, and their supporters had so much to lose, and that all Van Atta had to lose was his puffed up pride.

That said, if you're looking for an exciting and intelligent science fiction experience, you'll absolutely fall for Falling Free .

Booksigning of The Faery Reel

Yesterday I went to Books of Wonder and listened to five fantasy authors read portions of their contributions to The Faery Reel.

Delia Sherman's reading of "CATNYP" was especially warm and funny, perfectly suited to the candid voice of her first person teenage protagonist. She mentioned The Changeling (release date August 17, 2006), which will take place in the same New York Between of the "CATNYP" tale.

Gregory Frost had some interesting things to tell us about the relationship between the tengu of Japanese folklore and yamabushi monks and their mountain defenses against the samurai.

Jeffrey Ford joked that although his son gave him a hard time about writing a fairy story, he thoroughly enjoyed writing about the Twilmish- a special brand of sand castle fairy that Ford loosely based on childhood memories of the Teenie Weenies comic he used to read in the New York Daily News.

One of the anthology's editors was present. Ellen Datlow discussed the question of targeting to age groups when assembling fairy collections. She also talked about some of her literary influences (she specifically mentioned Ray Bradbury and anthologies culled from the best of Playboy in the 70's), and some of her editorial nitpicks (for example, she hates seeing the same word over and over again, as though it were a verbal place holder when a writer is having trouble getting to the point).

Other authors who read, cheerfully fielded questions, and signed, included Steve Berman, who admitted a fascination with London played a role in creating his story, and Holly Black, who talked about her late-night conversion from education major to fantasy writer.