Pluralism and the Language of the Future

Lots of science fiction writers weave future language into the fabric of their created universe. Orwell's 1984 had Newspeak. Joss Whedon's Firefly posits the dual spread of English and Chinese through the colonized universe. The real-life constructed language, Esperanto, is such a mainstay of visions of the future, that its use is parodied in the sf Britcom, Red Dwarf.

Why so much fuss about language? For one thing, writers know our everyday experiences and cultural identity are colored by the languages we speak. It's also an attempt to avoid unthinking ethnocentrism. Given the prominent place English holds in the international community today, it's especially tempting for sf writers to assume a future society where everyone speaks English.

So my interest was really piqued by Jean-Benoit Nadeau and Julie Barlow's discussion of the place of non-English languages in the future. Their book, The Story of French, may have started with the history of the language, but it brought readers up to date with statistics and events from 2006, and predicted language trends of the future.

Nadeau and Barlow explained that, while French was once the default international language for diplomacy, business, and education, English took over that role in the 20th Century. The aftermath of African colonization, French-speaking Canadians, and the spread of goodwill French-teaching organizations across the globe, have kept French on IV, but it was being wiped out on the international affairs stage (did you know the official language of the European Union is English?). An organization was created to promote the use of French on the international scene, but Nadeau and Barlow claim the Francophonie was only so much hot air until they hit upon a key idea: language pluralism.

France was once (and still is) the figurehead for democracy. Now the French language is becoming the figurehead of language pluralism- that is, of using more than one language. The trend in international bodies such as the UN, is to move toward a single official language (English) for efficiency. This leaves those who aren't native speakers at a disadvantage, and contributes to what Nadeau and Barlow call "mental colonization."

Waving the banner for more than one language in international diplomacy and cooperation, French speakers have captured the attention of other nations who don't want to see their languages disappear. That hot air Francophonie organization for promoting French is being joined by nations who don't even have large French-speaking populations (though they must prove strong French linguistic and cultural presence in their national identity to join- check out all 55 member flags). Momentum is slowly gaining for the idea that French is "the other language." Speaking French gives non-native English speakers an alternative to speaking English, and gives them hope that their language, too, might survive.

Just to be clear- I love English. I even spent several years teaching English to non-native speakers who wanted to learn for both practical reasons and because they just liked the language! But I'd hate to envision a future where there were no new French books for the September rentrée, where there were no new languages for me to study. Language is intertwined with culture, and learning a foreign language gives us a window to that culture. Efforts of the French-speaking community to promote linguistic and cultural pluralism may change the color of life in the space colonies of our future, and in the space colonies of our dreams.

Guest Authoring General Fiction Posts

I've been invited to participate as a guest author at the Friggin' Write Blog. I submit posts on all things literary every other Wednesday. Today's post is all about The Body Artist by Don DeLillo.

My first post answered the question What is Literature? My definition eschews attempts to classify literature as stuff that's not spec fiction, and goes deeper to explore the relationship between literature and the use of language.

Doctorow's "I, Robot"

The fourth story in Cory Doctorow's new science fiction anthology, Overclocked: Stories of the Future Present, really gets the attitude Asimov's human detective, Elijah Baley, has toward his robotic colleague. Doctorow puts an interesting twist on robopsychologist, Susan Calvin, by making her the disreputable wife of the protagonist detective. References to Asimov's I, Robot series are sprinkled throughout the story, including naming one of the "Calvin" character's robots Lenny.

Of course Doctorow puts his own spin on the scenario, posing questions about who owns the rights to what, and why the answer to that question is so important to society. He again shows an uncanny knowledge of twelve-year-old girls, though in this story we get to know Ada Trouble Icaza de Arana-Goldberg through her father's eyes. Single Dad Arturo is struggling with the aftermath of his wife's flight to Eurasia to build illicit robotech. She's left him to keep his chin up for Social Harmony approval so he can keep his job, and struggling to get Ada Trouble out of bed, in school, and still win her love.

A fun, detailed world awaits the reader in the beginning of the story, though as the overly-long tale drags on, the concreteness of the world drops away. Large portions of the action take place in a generic mall that, as I had no details about it, read like a typical, present-day American mall. Aside from setting issues, the father-daughter relationship so well set up in the opening lines of the story loses power when, in a moment of action-adventure, Doctorow pauses to remind us how important Ada Trouble is to her dad. We already knew that, and the reader can see the strings as Doctorow tries to tug our hearts.

But don't get me wrong, I had a lot of fun reading this story. It's jam packed with cool ideas and futuristic car chases. The references to the I, Robot world will tickle any Asimov fan. And, by the way, if you haven't read the originals, check out the core stories of I, Robot and my favorite novel in the I, Robot universe featuring Elijah Baley, Caves of Steel.

Peter Jackson's King Kong and My Popcorn Recipe

Saturday was movie night at our house. We turned off the lights and got ready to enjoy Peter Jackson's 187-minute-long remake of King Kong. When the movie was in theaters, we stayed home and watched the original, which we had never seen. We were probably the only couple to go out and by the soundtrack to the 2005 remake, and not the DVD. But, as fans of the original movie and fans of what Jackson & Co. did with the Lord of the Rings, we were pretty pumped to see the movie.

The first hour of the movie impressed us a lot. The second hour I spent chatting with my mother-in-law and making popcorn (the conversation and snack were a heck of a lot better than the movie). The third hour redeemed itself with a satisfying and engaging ending.

Here are some things Jackson & Co. did right in the opening:
1. Ann Darow's character, transforming her from a starving young woman (original) to a starving young artist (2005 version) whose passion for theater makes her love story with writer Jack Driscoll plausible and sweet.
2. Buildup to Skull Island maintained tension through the first third of the movie. Our arrival there was not disappointing- it lived up to all the spooky hype. Kudos to Jackson for set building, casting and directing the Skull Island natives, and film techniques used to make arrival on Skull Island genuinely scary.

Following this are some truly lovely shots that establish the fantastical, prehistoric island where everything, from the insects to the T-Rex, are super sized and super beautiful. But within five minutes...

Heather's Popcorn Recipe
1/4 C organic popcorn kernels
3 T extra virgin olive oil
1 t fine sea salt

Directions: Air pop the corn, drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with salt, and toss well. Serves two bored viewers.

So what went wrong? I'm hardly the first to notice that the drawn out creature feature battles dilute the tension of the story. At this point Jackson & Co. has made the viewer really care about Ann Darow. We want to know her fate! But we have to wade through way too many brontosaurus stampedes to get a glimpse at what's going on with her and Kong. Not only that, the creature battles are not well done. Cheesy battles that don't take simple physics into account may work in short clips, but not for the length of time we're exposed to them in the 2005 remake. Up until the moment we see the first dinosaur, the actions of the heroes are gripping, because they're battling and barely surviving, using their knowledge and skills to the best of their abilities in the face of tremendous threats. This truly scary feeling drops away in the middle of the movie, and we are left with continuous near-deaths that should have been real deaths. Coincidence and highly implausible escapes (that at my kindest evaluation were lucky, and at times were ridiculous) water down the element of danger and look just plain goofy.

Jackson's portrayal of the relationship between Ann and Kong saves the movie, so by the time I got to the end, I really did care what happened to Kong, and felt that he had made a connection with Ann. I think that was the heart of the original move, and despite a lot of vine-swinging T-Rexes, Jackson managed to deliver that heart in his remake.

3-Iron and the Nature of Reality

In a previous post I discussed how much I enjoyed the 2003 Korean film Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring directed by Ki-duk Kim. It struck me so much, I had to try another. 3-Iron (Bin-jip) was no disappointment.

The beginning of this film is anything but fantastical. A young man rides from house to house on his motorbike, sticking advertisements for a restaurant to residents' doors. We quickly learn that Tae-Suk isn't working for a restaurant, but using these flyers as a way to tell whether or not people are home, or away on vacation. When he finds one of his flyers left on the front door for several days, he knows it's safe to pick the lock, and let himself inside. As far as Tae-Suk is concerned, he's not doing anything wrong. He's homeless, and all he wants is a bath, a meal, and a place to spend the night. He makes a point of doing something nice for the people while he's using their pad- watering the plants, doing the laundry, fixing a broken clock. Those who return usually don't even notice he was there, and he he never steals more than some leftovers from the fridge.

Tae-Suk's seemingly harmless existence incurs its first genuine act of crime when he discovers something extraordinarily valuable left abandoned in a wealthy man's home- the man's wife. There is no question this young wife has been badly abused by her husband. She's covered in bruises and blood, and when her husband telephones she screams. When Tae-Suk is surprised by the arrival of the abused woman's husband, he exacts revenge on the husband, beating him by driving golf balls into his gut until he crumples. Tae-Suk flees the house, taking the young wife with him. The young woman is initiated to Tae-Suk's way of life, but the karmic consequences of what Tae-Suk has done to her husband haunt their shyly blossoming love.

As these consequences grow darker, Tae-Suk learns the cost of his way of life and his love for the young woman. He combats his problems in a unique way that brings us into the realm of the speculative. An event quite near the end of the film could have two possible consequences. Not only does the denouement allow room for both of these outcomes to have occurred, it calls into question the reality of all the events that happened previously.

I loved this film. The details of each home or apartment Tae-Suk enters opens into the private world of fully-developed characters. The detail and touchable, almost smellable reality experienced by the viewer make the ambiguity of the ending hit home, causing a lurch as we question what is real, and what is not.

Harry Potter 7 to be Released on July 21st!

I was still bleary-eyed this morning when I was inundated by announcements about the seventh of seven books in the Harry Potter series. The final book's title had been released over the holidays in a puzzle on J.K. Rowling's website, leaving fans eager to know when they could get their hands on it. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is already available for pre-order on amazon.com. If you're anywhere near as excited as I am to get your hands on this book, pre-order and avoid long lines and sell-outs in June!

There will be lots of speculation today about how Rowling will end the series, but I hate spoilers. I'm all for the buzz, but I really don't want to know what happens until I get to the last page. I feel so strongly about this, that my husband lost his voice reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in an attempt to finish before we accidentally heard anything about the ending on the news.

What I'd like to talk about is how the Harry Potter series fits into spec fiction. Harry Potter is fantasy, one of the three major genres of SF. Rowling used some pretty conventional fantasy staples- fantastical creatures from Anglo-Saxon lore, magical spells in Latin, the idea of witches and wizards- and made something magical of them. She isn't the most original or inventive writer out there, her prose style isn't head and shoulders above the rest- but she sure does understand story. Rowling brought fun and adventure back to the mainstream perception of reading a book. That isn't the only key to her success. Her world building skill is absolutely head and shoulders above the rest. Think about it, wouldn't you love to take your next vacation at Hogwarts? The Harry Potter world is real to anyone who has read even one book in the series.

So, not only has Rowling captured a huge audience and been translated into at least 47 languages (I've even seen a copy in Latin), but she revived the spirit of storytelling. I have fond memories of sitting in rapt attention with my equally enthralled sister-in-law and mother-in-law while my husband read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Book 6) aloud. The Harry Potter books speak to the spirit of wonder in all of us, regardless of where or when we were born, or whether or not we're diehard SF fans. I think that's quite an accomplishment, and I can't wait for July 21st, so I can hear the rest of the story

Anda's Game

Anda's got a bit too much podge, she hates PE, and she loves sweeties and her online RPG. There's nothing particularly futuristic about this British teen, the protagonist of the third tale in Cory Doctorow's Overclocked: Stories of the Future Present, until her passion for her favorite game gets her into more than one kind of trouble.

"Anda's Game" was a lot of fun to read. Doctorow is to be praised for the use of such phrases as "sensible boobs" and characters like "Liza the Organiza." Anda's voice is realistic- sweet, but sometimes greedy, depressed, bored. Anda's round character showcases Doctorow's ability to actually get inside a twelve-year-old girl's head. The plot is engaging, and leads logically down a path that brings Anda and the reader to a genuine dilemma.

In his forward to the story, Doctorow goes into great detail about what inspired him to write "Anda's Game." Thumbing his nose at the misnomer that titles can be copyrighted inspired the title. The practice of gold farming gave him the idea for the plot. What Doctorow fails to mention is where he got the idea that female role-playing gamers were better than males. This assumption is the only element of the story that I didn't find plausible.

Doctorow cites some believable reasons why girls aren't as avid gamers as their male counterparts, including avatars that make them "perv-magnets," taking crap from boys, and gamespace that "smells like a boy's armpit." Where he loses is me is the premise that female gamers are better than male gamers. Just as good, could be. But better?

Doctorow's feminist RPG queen, Liza the Organiza, claims that girls are "faster, stronger, and better than boys." Let's just say this is Liza's opinion, not Doctorow's. But later, when Liza says that girls' cooperative spirit makes them better fighters than boys, I really got the feeling Doctorow shared her opinion. Indeed, important events of the story were tied to the way the girls in game cooperated.

I've observed a lot male gamers playing online MUDs, RPGs and XBOX Live Arcade games. Say what you will about these fella's armpits- the spirit of cooperation is strong with them. Listen in to the audio chat channels during play. You'll hear guys of all ages from all over the USA (and in some cases the world), guys who have never even met each other, spontaneously working together to achieve a team goal. You'll hear them sharing the spoils of war, covering each other's backs, and teaching inexperienced players the ropes. It's beautiful, in a kind of smelly guy way.

I don't think girls are going to edge out male gamers based on spirit of cooperation.

The Father of Science Fiction?

This morning I came across a reference to the origins of science fiction in an unexpected context. I was reading The Story of French by Jean-Benoit Nadeau and Julie Barlow. In a chapter illuminating the forward-thinking progress made by France at the dawn of the Industrial Revolution, the authors cited Jules Verne as the father of science fiction. I always question these kind of statements, which can be tricky to prove. The authors mentioned that Verne was a predecessor to the British H.G. Wells. A quick check of their bibliographies backed up this statement: Verne published such titles as Journey to the Center of the Earth and From the Earth to the Moon in 1864-1865. Wells' first publication was in 1888, his Time Machine: An Invention dates from 1895. My research on Wikipedia drew my attention to the statement: "Verne, along with Hugo Gernsback and H. G. Wells, is often popularly referred to as the 'Father of Science Fiction'."
Well, the first thing I did was check out this Hugo Gernsback. Gernsback wasn't even born until until 1864. A native of Luxembourg (and no doubt a Francophone), Gernsback moved to the U.S. in 1905. Modern SF fans most likely remember him for his first name, given to the prestigous Hugo Award. He gets the appellation "Father of Science Fiction" and is often credited for creating the genre, because he founded and promoted Amazing Stories, the first commercial magazine dedicated to science fiction.
Meaning no disrespect to the worthy trinity of our science fiction fathers, I was more interested to discover who first started writing science fiction than in who established the genre niche in popular literature. Further research led me to The History of Science Fiction: A Chronological Survey by Agatha Taormina. Taormina divides the origin of science fiction into stages: prehistory, pioneers, Wells and Bouroughs, early modern science fiction, the Golden Age, postwar era, and the modern age. Prehistory yielded some interesting results stretching back to elements of the fantastic in classical literature. But I was interested in the pioneer age, the first authors to pen tales that meet our modern genre requirements for science fiction. The result? The father of science fiction, in the sense of the first person to write a genuine science fiction novel, wasn't the father of science fiction, but the mother: Mary Shelly. Her Frankenstein : A Modern Prometheus, was first published in 1818. The wikipedia entry for this book notes that "many distinguished authors...consider this the very first science fiction novel."
If you're only familiar with Frankenstein as a monster movie icon, you're in for a treat when you discover the 1818 novel at the origin of this classic tale. Frankenstein is fantastic fodder for a future blog post. For now I'll leave you with highlights of Agatha Taormina's list of the earliest pioneers of science fiction. These authors are among my favorites.

• 1818 Mary Shelly (British) Frankenstein: A Modern Prometheus
• 1836 Edgar Allen Poe (American) The Narrative of A. Gordon Pym
• 1840's Nathaniel Hawthorne (American) "The Birthmark" (1843) and "Rappaccini's Daughter" (1844)
• 1860/70's Jules Verne (French) Journey to the Center of the Earth (1864), Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (1870)

Friggin' Writers' Panel

This evening from 7-9 ET I'll be one of two guest authors discussing science fiction in the first of Friggin' Write's series of teleconference writers' panel meetups. I'll be joined by award-winning short-story writer and novelist, Karen Heuler.

To learn more about tonight's discussion and to learn about upcoming telephonic discussion panels and NYC writer events, check out the Friggin' Write website.

Transformations of King Arthur Through Time

This week I finished Joseph Campbell's Transformations of Myth Through Time. Campbell takes on the daunting task of explaining the Western individual's cultural and spiritual heritage, beginning with the dawn of human consciousness, and discussing the major Eastern and Western civilizations whose stories make up our heritage. He also attempts to answer the question "How do I connect with the magic of the universe?" for those who come from Judeo-Christian traditions, and provides an explanation of Oriental philosophy and spirituality to the Westerner, including how these traditions influenced our own.

The final three chapters are a special treat for fantasy fans like me. Campbell delves deep into the tradition of the troubadours, and unearths the dawn of such legends as King Arthur, The Search for the Holy Grail, and Tristan and Isolde.

I had read several accounts of historical leaders named Arthur who may or may not have been the source of the Arthur stories. Campbell suggests Arthur was "originally a Celtic god, and the place where we find him revered is in the Pyrenees." Campbell explains that the name Arthur is related to several ancient deities, including Artus (Roman) and Artemis (Greek). In all these cases, the deity is identified with the bear. Joseph Campbell fans will know that the bear is the "oldest worshiped deity in the world...going back to Neanderthal times." There's a really cool photograph accompanying this text, a tombstone from first century A.D. in St. Pé, France. The inscription reads, "Lexiia, the daughter of Odan, has gained merit through her vows to Artehe." Campbell finds it easy to make the leap from "Artehe" to "Arthur" (you will, too, if you speak both words out loud), and uses this monument as evidence that Arthur was still a deity in Roman times.

Campbell does an excellent job of connecting tales from distant lands and distant times to the swarm of stories we all have swimming deep inside our brains. His tone is conversational, and laced with humor, the weight of a lifetime of mythological study, and love for these stories.

Overclocked Announced

Cory Doctorow announced the publication of his new collection of short stories on the famous Boing Boing, the "directory of wonderful things." You can see for yourself how wonderful- or not- the collection is either by buying the book, or by reading it for free under a Creative Commons license which Doctorow summarizes as "Take 'em, send them around, convert them to new formats, make new and cool things out of them -- but don't charge money for them without talking to me."

In typical Doctorow fashion, the stories are available for free in practically every digital format known to man. So far I've read the first Dickensian science fiction tale, "Printcrime," in pdf on my mac. Next up, "When Sysadmins Ruled the Earth" in Mobipocket on my handheld. I'll have reviews of the stories over the coming weeks. To learn more about Doctorow's policy of giving his work away for free, check out my previous post on Doctorow.

Full Metal Panic!

That giant robot you saw earlier this week on the cover of Full Metal Panic - Mission 01 is actually called an Arm Slave, a deadly mechanical exoskeleton operated by a human soldier on the battlefield. War tactics and soldierly bravery make up the shōnen aspect of the series, which is supposed to appeal to guys. One of these soldiers, Sosuke Sagara, is taken out of his Arm Slave and charged to go undercover as a high school student in order to guard Kaname Chidori. The relationship that develops between these two provides fodder for the girl-pleasing shōjo audience.

So, why is a battle-hardened soldier guarding a Japanese high school student? That's where the science fiction comes in. Though Kaname doesn't know it, she's a Whispered, a young woman who can hear distant voices that speak of technology beyond anything previously dreamed by humans. Kaname isn't the only Whispered- we also meet Captain Tessa, a frail American teenager in charge of a futuristic submarine she designed and built with the help of the whispering voices. What I like about Full Metal Panic! is that advances in technology come with very realistic consequences. Anarchists and terrorists are drooling to get their hands on one of these young Whispereds so they can put them to work designing weapons. They are successful in getting their hands on some Black Technology, which allows them to soup up an Arm Slave with the Lambda Driver. I won't tell you what this nightmare weapon does- you'll have a lot of fun finding out. But I will say that the only way Sosuke can defend Kaname against the Lambda Driver it is to learn to use it, himself.

Full Metal Panic! digs into the psychology of the soldier, explores sense of duty in military organizations, gives an interesting twist on the child prodigy, and even offers insight into Japanese culture. But let's not forget that it's also got Sosuke booby trapping school lunches and blowing up shoe lockers. And, most important of all, it's got Kaname hitting hopeless Sosuke over the head with her fan every time he makes a civilian blunder- and falling deeper in love with every swat.

What is the Difference between Manga and Anime?

Before I began my foray into the world of manga, I was confused on this point, but it's really pretty simple. Manga are Japanese comic books in print. Anime is manga in motion, cartoon series on video media.

Fantasy and science fiction series are well-represented in manga and anime series, but mainstream romantic comedies and other genres are also quite popular. More important than genre distinction is the intended target audience of the series. There are many kinds of target audiences, but the main divisions are shōjo (intended for a female audience) and shōnen (intended for a male audience). Now, it isn't as though only boys can only read shōnen and girls abhor everything but shōjo. In fact, my favorite series is a blend of shōjo and shōnen combined with a good dose of science fiction. This week I'll be doing a review of the series, Full Metal Panic, in which I'll point out which elements appeal to spec fiction fans, which elements appeal to boys, which elements appeal to girls, and why this unique combination makes a fun series for everyone.

For now I'll leave you with the links to Full Metal Panic! Volume 1 (this is manga) and Full Metal Panic - Mission 01 (this is anime). Note the meeting of shōjo and shōnen on the cover of the manga, and the giant robot on the DVD of the anime.

Stone and the Librarian

What a treat! One of my favorite writers, William Browning Spencer, has a short story in the February issue of F&SF! Spencer presents us with a protagonist, Stone, who hates, despises, and loathes literature. At the same time, his ability to connect deeply with the written word has been noticed by the Librarian, who holds Stone prisoner and forces him to read, and read, and then read some more. For Stone, life in Knowledge Base #29 makes him feel as though "time turned the color of a rain-laden sky." Forced forays into Faulkner give Stone the impression he's trying to "puzzle out the thought process of a giant squid mulling things over at the bottom of the night-black sea." Yet Stone wakes in the middle of the night, having understood the precise essence of what Faulkner was trying to say. He runs through his prison, shouting the message at the top of his lungs- but all anyone can hear is a madman shouting gibberish.

As in my other Spencer favorites, Zod Wallop and Resume With Monsters, the beauty of "Stone and the Librarian" comes from those moments when the reader sinks with the protagonist into a whirlpool of uncertainty about what is real, and what represents the fevered workings of a mad, mad brain. At a certain point the reader feels a jolt, a moment of being unsure whether he's still got all his marbles. For me the moment came on p. 56. Where is the fall for you?

As you can tell from the large amount of quoting in today's post, the prose is also fantastic in this story. Spec fiction fans will enjoy the references to Robert E. Howard and Edgar Rice Burroughs. Great fun for literature buffs, too!

The Darkness Between

Today I read a really fun novelette by Jeremy Minton. "The Darkness Between" uses a classic science fiction scenario. Two technologically advanced civilizations wipe themselves out with battle lust, and the story takes place ages into the aftermath, focusing on a primitive society coming of age. I like the fact that the coming of age of the primitive society is paired with the coming of age of the young protagonist.

But we've all seen this scenario many times before. Why read "The Darkness Between?" For all that fun stuff I was talking about: an untrustworthy magician; impossible battles with knuckledusters in close, dark tunnels, lit only by the glow of the monsters' bodies; mining for spiritual drugs; rockfruit; a geography that includes locations like the Drop and the Lightless Lake. In short, the world building here is fantastic.

You can find "The Darkness Between" in the January 2007 issue of F&SF .

Learning to Shudder

What do Jim Henson's the Storyteller and the Japanese anime series Full Metal Panic Fumoffu have in common? Well, not much- except that both of them have an episode based on my favorite Grimm's fairy tale: "The Story of the Youth who went forth to learn what Fear was." I first encountered this tale in Bergamo, Italy, where I picked up a book of local fairy tales and legends. I've since encountered a similar version in Grimm's.

It's not surprising that Jim Henson's the Storyteller,which pulls directly from German folk tales, used this tale which is, after all, the fourth of two hundred ten tales in The Complete Grimm's Fairy Tales. Henson tells the story of a tailor's son who is a little too simple, a little too dumb, to have ever been afraid. At the urging of his father, the young man leaves family, home, and his true love behind and goes on an adventure to seek out his first fright- to learn, as it were, how to shudder. The journey leads our hero on a number of adventures that are supposed to frighten him, but do not. He finally ends up in a haunted house, where a ghoul comes tumbling down the chimney (in the Italian version, this ghoul falls down the chimney in many pieces, in Henson's version, he is separated in just two pieces, his legs scampering away from his upper half). The ghoul challenges the young hero to a game of nine pins, for which the prize is winning the hero's legs. The young man wins the game, survives the night, and finds great riches in the haunted house. He goes home a wealthy man, but he still hasn't learned to shudder. It's not until he returns home to tell his father his fortune that he learns his true love has fallen deathly ill. Summoned to her side, the young man is certain his true love will die, and fear of losing her makes him shiver in terror for the very first time.

Compare this traditional tale to the romantic comedy/sf war (yes, you read that correctly) manga and anime series from Japan, Full Metal Panic. In the Full Metal Panic: Fumoffu portion of the series, we have spunky Japanese high school girl, Kaname, showing the foreign-born soldier, Sosuke, the ropes of teenage life in Japan. Sosuke has learned that high school can be more challenging than the battlefield, where he spent most of his childhood and young adult life. In Episode 6, "The Patient of Darkness," Kaname is telling ghost stories to her friends. The only one she can't scare with her stories is the battle-hardened Sosuke. Kaname takes him to an abandoned hospital that the locals believe is haunted. Right away the duo sees an elderly patient who died at the hospital staring at them through a broken window. Inside, a defunct telephone line rings. The caller is trying to reach the hospital- but he's already dead. Bloodied children from the pediatric ward begin to chase them down the hallway with cleavers. Through all these increasingly scary situations, Kaname is jumping out of her skin, but Sosuke remains unmoved, pointing out at each juncture that old ladies and even small children with weapons are no match for his soldierly skills. The pair are about to discover the true nature of the hospital hauntings, when some old floor boards give way and Kaname falls through to the hospital's basement. The next scene shows her in a heap of rubble, unconscious. There is blood everywhere. Enter Sosuke, sweating and shaking, stuttering- in other words, he's terrified. Like the fairy tale hero, our level-headed soldier has learned what fear is.

January 2007 F&SF

The last two stories of the first 2007 issue of Fantasy & Science Fiction are enough to get readers excited for a great year of fiction. The final tales are by Neil Gaiman and Robert Reed. Gaiman takes us on adventure with two young men both at the tender age of fifteen. Reed's leading men are both the same age, too: this time fifty-three years young.

"How to Talk to Girls at Parties" is both the title of Gaiman's story and a serious problem for protagonist, Enn. He watches with envy as his buddy Vic glides uninvited into a house full of beautiful girls, plucks the prettiest from the lot, and makes her his date. The only advice lady-killer Vic can give Enn on girls is to talk to them, then listen to what they say. Enn takes this advice to heart- and the girls start jabbering away, making even less sense than girls usually do. This story was taken from Gaiman's most recent book, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders, though all the references to stars throughout the story may bring to mind another Niel Gaiman title, Stardust, which editor Gordon Van Gelder reminds us is coming out in film this March.

"X-Country" by Robert Reed describes the Gatsby-esque character, Kip Logan. Kip's origins are uncertain, his aptitudes moderate, he's good looking, and liked by both men and women. His only outstanding achievement was constantly beating protagonist Don at all the local running events. Then one day Kip left town, traveled the world, and came back rich enough to buy a mansion and fancy sports car with cash. The details of where he went and how he made his money are, like most things in Kip's past, very sketchy. Now fifty-three years old, both Don and Kip are back competing in races- Kip winning, as per usual. Then two very interesting things happen. Don suffers a hip injury that threatens to end his running career and his active lifestyle for good. Kip decides to sponsor his own X-country race- not cross-country- Kip is very adamant about that. Just what this X-country race might be is a mystery to Don and the entire town, but the prizes Kip is offering make it worth while to run.

Missing Chapters and Winter's Nights

My husband and I have been reading The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman aloud together. It is a decidedly wintry book, so we read the first half last winter, then put it aside in the spring and have just picked it back up. We were happily reading about arctic temperatures and Alethia meters when we noticed a printing error in the book: chapters 15 and 16 had been printed twice, chapters 17 and 18 were missing. This left us with a pretty serious problem: what happens next?

My first thought when we discovered the error was another half-finished book I left behind somewhere in Italy. Se una notte d'inverno un viaggiatore by Italo Calvino (English translation: If on a winter's night a traveler) is a novel all about the joy of reading. The bookworm protagonist settles in all comfy on the sofa for a good read, dives into an intriguing tale, but is jarred out of the authorial spell part way through when he realizes a large portion of the book is missing. He sets out on a quest that leads him to bookstores, libraries, publishers' offices, and obscure university departments, in search of the rest of the manuscript. Along the way he encounters nine more incomplete manuscripts (each more captivating than the next, and yes, we get to read them all) international intrigue, and romance with a mysterious girl. The Calvino book is the kind of novel meant to savor: by which I mean turning the pages in wild feverishness then, like the protagonist, stepping back for awhile to ponder the significance of what it is you've read. It's the sort of book that will stay in your head years after you should have forgotten it.

Real life, alas, is not so fun and exciting as fiction.

In my own attempt to find the rest of The Golden Compass, I contacted the publisher. Random House customer service could not send me an electronic copy of the missing chapters (Random House, Inc./Yearling owns the rights to both my defective book and the eBook version) nor would they replace the book. They advised me to contact the seller. A phone call to Barnes and Noble customer service ended in a stubborn adherence to their 30 day exchange policy. Of course I knew about their policy before I called, but I mistakenly believed they had an interest in readers, that a bookseller would understand that readers don't want to thumb through the book to check for printing errors before they read it. Turns out B&N doesn't understand the reader, but they are excellent at moving product- defective or otherwise. Even when I said I'd be happy with an electronic copy of the missing chapters, they were unable to help me. So at this point I was stuck with a grave conundrum for the avid reader: I couldn't find out what happened next. My solution? Three bucks and change at fictionwise.com. Less romantic than Calvino's Winter's Night, but at least now I can learn Lyra's fate!

Ubik

"Ubik speeds relief to head and stomach. Remember:...Avoid prolonged use."
"Ubik plastic wrap- actually four layers in one. Keeps freshness in, air and moisture out."
"Instant Ubik has all the fresh flavor of just-brewed drip coffee...Safe when taken as directed."
"Ubik is the nation's number-one choice in beer. Made only in Cleveland."
"Ubik provides uninterrupted sleep...Do not exceed recommended dosage."
-Philip K. Dick, Ubik

Just what is this ubiquitous Ubik? If Joe Chip weren't fighting a losing battle against time, he might have a moment to figure it out. But he really, really doesn't.

Joe is the kind of guy who doesn't have so much as a nickel to pay his refrigerator so he can drink a glass of milk. His trouble with small change only gets worse when he finds the vending machines won't take the quarter in his pocket, and only antique coin collectors accept his currency. Cups of hard-won coffee grow rancid in his hands. Bummed cigarettes decompose and crumble on his lips. Just when Joe doesn't think life can get any cruddier, a friend dies, found dried up like a mummy. She's one of twelve people exposed to a bizarre bomb blast. Joe is among the twelve. Yep, things just got worse: the world around Joe and the ten survivors is slipping back in time. Yesterday it was 1992, today the papers are asking if the U.S. will join the war in Europe. Joe Chip would like to know what the hell is going on, preferably before he dies.

Much like its namesake, Ubik offers something for everyone. It's that satisfying mystery novel that allows you to figure out whodunnit just one step ahead of the protagonist. It has smart-mouthed appliances, telepaths, and a sexy stranger who takes off all her clothes. Dick refers to the Bardo Thodo (often called the Tibetan Book of the Dead) and makes fun of funeral directors. The reader enjoys a trip to the moon and later to my home state of Iowa in 1939. Readers may enjoy laughing at what pre-war Iowans thought of houses of prostitution, or the way Dick envisions futuristic tape recorders. Slight chaffing may occur as certain plot devices repeat in the last third of the novel, but the reader, like Joe Chip, will probably be too distracted by Chip's eminent death to be annoyed. If not, you can always apply a little Ubik to the pages. It will make everything shiny and new.

Ubik, a highly recommended read. Safe when imagination is used as directed.

Virtual Limb

As an SF writer I find the idea of an amputee's phantom limb fascinating fodder for the imagination. As a human being I feel bad for the amputees! What can be done to cure intense discomfort in an area of your body that does not exist anymore?.

Graphics technology may have found an answer. This CRAVE article describes how a virtual reality system using video game graphics helped a woman experience the use of her fingers again and find relief from the her painfully clenched missing hand. Participants in the program get nifty virtual reality goggles and enter into an absorbing virtual reality where they can wiggle non-existant fingers and run with legs that have magically come back to them.

Variable Star

"I wanted to read a new Heinlein novel so badly that I didn't care if I had to finish it myself."
-Spider Robinson

I grabbed this quote from a Slashdot article on the Heinlein manuscript Robinson completed. Variable Star was released on September 19th, 2006 by TOR. I read the first chapter before the release but haven't yet read the book. Trying to avoid spoilers, I've merely glanced at the reviews. My impression that this is classic, yummy Heinlein has been confirmed by reviewers on Slashdot and Amazon, but there are some disgruntled readers who complain that the history timeline includes modern events that Heinlein would have never known to include.

Glass Soup

"Whenever you take a mouthful of too-hot soup, the next thing you do will be wrong."
-John Flannery, Chaos's evil agent in Jonathan Carroll's Glass Soup.

Sound advice from a creepy antagonist.

I enjoyed Glass Soup. It's a literate spec fic novel set in Austria. The hints of Europe were a familiar and pleasing flavor for me, and gave Carroll a chance to use his intimate knowledge of his expatriate home to slide interesting facts about Mohr im hemd (chocolate pudding) and flakturm (indestructible antiaircraft towers) into the tale. A colorful and engaging parade of absurdities first delight and distract, then begin to coalesce into an intriguing hierarchy of life after death and dreams. Protagonists Vincent and Isabelle must wade through bizarre events, the death of loved ones, and even their own deaths in order to save their unborn child, Anjo.

One of the most interesting scenarios in the book happens before the narrative begins: Vincent dies, and Isabelle jumps after him into the afterlife, successfully bringing him back from death. Vincent has returned to life to raise his still in-utero son. Anjo is (for no specified reason) fated to stop Chaos from destroying the world to preserve its newfound consciousness. So Chaos really has it in for Anjo. Chaos is intent halting the cycle of the godlike mosaic that forms and reforms, creating the pattern of life. Ironically Chaos would like everything to stay just the way it is- it doesn't want the mosaic that brought it to life to break down. Right here is one of strangest things about the book. Chaos when personified in fiction usually thrives on disorder. In Glass Soup, the protagonists are able to defeat Chaos again and again by capitalizing on the very disorder it creates.

Strengths of the book include humor, absurdity, internal logic, and bits of trivia about autographists and Blue Morpho butterflies. The main weakness is characterization. Womanizer Simon Haden is the best developed character in the book and the first introduced. It is through his afterlife that we discover the rules of the game, and get great insight into his personality. We are never present in Vincent or Isabelle's afterlives, and without that device, Carroll is limited in how engaged the reader becomes with his protagonists.

Characterization issues also plagued the bad guys. John Flannery and his dog Luba were introduced as the bowel-loosening henchman of Chaos, but their creepiness wore off as I got to know them, until they just weren't that scary. This left the end of the novel feeling a mite drab- the sense of urgency faded as the antagonist lost its bite, and it seemed only a matter of time before the more competent protagonists worked their way through the loophole inconveniences of the universal laws of life and death.

Dawn, and the Sunset, and the Colours of the Earth

Dawn was theirs, and sunset, and the colours of the earth
-Rupert Brooke

I just finished reading Michael F. Flynn's novelette titled "Dawn, and the Sunset, and the Colours of the Earth" in the Oct/Nov issue of Asimov's. Lovely title, isn't it? Flynn took it from a poem by Rupert Brooke, and quotes a stanza of the same poem later in the piece. Flynn teases the reader by refusing to identify the poet- a tease made all the worse by his mention of a boat named Odyssey right around the time the stanza is quoted. I fell right into the trap, and browsed through an online version of the Odyssey looking for all the (many) references to Dawn and Sunset. Further research revealed the true source of the quote was the fourth of a series of five sonnets (plus prelude) written by travel writer turned WWI soldier, Rupert Brooke. According to the Rupert Brooke Society, the most famous poem of the series was The Soldier, though Brooke's personal favorite was Death (IV)- and Michael Flynn seems to be taken with it, as well.

Here is the series of sonnets:
The Treasure (written in August 1914)
1. Peace (numbered sonnets written in the autumn of 1914 after the outbreak of WWI)
2. Safety
3. The Dead
4. The Dead
5. The Soldier

In true dramatic fashion, Brooke died in April of 1915, just as his published sonnets were beginning to meet with fame and acclaim.

So what does Rupert Brooke's poem have to do with a science fiction novelette? You'll have to read it for yourself to find out. I can tell you that you'll encounter the stories and perspectives of many people whose lives were touched by the incident on the Bay, read some emails, and even read a little play. Flynn does a great job building a sense of mystery, and tying all these little stories and snippets together into a tale almost- but not quite- as beautiful as Brooke's sonnet.

Happy October!

October is the most magical month of the year. Oak leaves skitter across the pavement, clattering like skeleton bones. In northern Italy thick fog roils above the vineyards. The vines grow bare as palm-sized green leaves motle yellow and drift to the ground. There is a thinness to the air, and the line between life and death is a little less solid than at any other season. We're on a 31-day countdown to my favorite holiday, Halloween, and 32 days from the bone cookies and graveyard treks of All Saint's Day. To celebrate the season and to put you in the mood for reading and writing in the autumnal atmosphere, here's a list of my favorite October music:

Vocal:
Bargainville by Moxy Fruvous. Right from the first track, "River Valley," you're out in the country on an autumn walk. Maybe Canadian groups just get autumn. If you like Bargainville, be sure to try Maroon by the Barenaked Ladies.

Instrumental:
Amélie: Original Soundtrack Recording by Yann Tierson from the French film Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain. Tierson loves to write for accordion and toy piano, and the result is a sepia-toned portrait of childhood suddenly infused with new color and life. The whole album is a September-October delight, but, despite its name, Track 4: "Comtine D'un Autre Ete: L'apres Midi," is the most autumnal of the album. The solo piano notes you hear in this track are actually falling red and gold leaves.

Charlie Brown's Holiday Hits by Vince Guaraldi includes the heart-breakingly cheerful "Great Pumpkin Waltz." George Winston also plays a touching version of this song on his album Linus & Lucy: The Music Of Vince Guaraldi . Winston has an album called Autumn that makes lovely reading, writing, studying music.

Orchestral:
Concerto for Orchestra by Béla Bartók. Bartók wrote this haunting music during the last years of his life in New York.

Night on Bald Mountain by Moussorgsky (you might know this spooky music from Disney's Fantasia).

Passwords: the new magic words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carol Emshwiller

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

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

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

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

"Revelations"

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

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

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

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

Coagulate

Today I encountered "coagulate" in two unusual descriptions:

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

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

Digital Trend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toward the End of Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Wizard of Earthsea

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sweet Serenity

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

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

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

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

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

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!