So, what did I think…? Continue reading Hugo Ballot Reviews: John W. Campbell Award & Dramatic Presentation
Category Archives: science fiction
Hugo Ballot Reviews: Best Fan Writer
Today I’m reviewing nominees for Best Fan Writer. This is awarded to a person for work(s) published in fanzines, semiprozines, mailing lists, blogs, BBSs, and similar electronic fora. Work the person may have published in professional publications should not be considered when judging for this award.
So, this one was interesting… Continue reading Hugo Ballot Reviews: Best Fan Writer
Hugo Ballet Reviews: Related Works
This time I’m reviewing the Best Related Work nominees. These are awarded to a work related to the field of science fiction, fantasy, or fandom, appearing for the first time during the previous calendar year or which has been substantially modified during the previous calendar year.
This is a sort of catch-all category, that frequently includes things like biographies of writers, artists, editors or others important to the field, or books about the making of a particular movie or TV series. It usually does not include anthologies, even though there is no Best Anthology category. Non-fiction collections (such as a collection of essays about a sci fi/fantasy related topic, or collections of literary criticism, et cetera) are eligible.
And we have some very interesting nominees in this category… Continue reading Hugo Ballet Reviews: Related Works
Savage Heroics and Barbaric Eroticism – more of why I love sf/f
I don’t know when I first saw a painting by Frank Frazetta adorning a book. He had worked for many years in the comics industry, then began doing movie posters in the early 60s, and by the mid 60s he was painting cover art for paperback editions of Conan the Barbarian, John Carter of Mars, and numerous other similar sorts of fantasy book series. He became the go-to guy for that sort of book. And soon rock bands were licensing images for album covers or sometimes commissioning him to do an original work for an album.
His fantasy art style was described as primal and potent. He liked to call his work rough. He also freely admitted he didn’t read the books he created covers for—even when he was also paid to create pen and ink illustrations for the interior. He insisted that most of the people who bought the books didn’t really read them, either. I’m not sure if that was supposed to be an egotistical claim that the book covers were so great that people who didn’t read would buy them, or if he thought that only illiterate people were interested in the types of stories in the books (but if they were literally illiterate, what were they doing even looking at books?), or what.
I know that most of the books I owned that featured his artwork were picked up at used book stores. And they were almost always very worn, having had their pages turned a lot. Lots of people buy books to read only once then pass on. My experience with the other fantasy fans I hung out with during my teen years was that the folks who bought these books read them, re-read them, and re-read them again. We became obsessed, and would go back again and again.
I was reading them for the sense of adventure. For a chance to imagine a different world, where the bad guys were obvious, and the good guys would get back up no matter how often they were knocked down.
But I also spent a lot of time staring at cover art. Thinking about the world and the story, yes, but also wondering why the artist made this choice, or that. What was that thing in the bad guy’s hand supposed to be? That sort of thing.
I also had other, much less noble reasons for staring at the artwork. And for buying posters of some of the artwork to hang on my bedroom wall. Though I didn’t admit it. The artwork, particularly Frazetta’s wasn’t merely primal, potent, barbaric, and rough—it was also erotic.
My first week at university, the parents of my roommate showed up to visit. My roommate’s mother freaked out at this poster on my side of the room. I thought she was upset because of the naked man’s butt, or maybe she guessed that it was a “supernatural” picture (this was a Free Methodist university, and most folks there were quite rightwing conservative). The novel, The Book of Paradox was a sort of tarot-based fantasy, which I’m sure his mother would have labeled Satanic if she realized a battered paperback copy of it was sitting on the shelf above my bed in that same dorm room.
No, what she was angry about were the bare breasts on the winged creatures. I think I actually said out loud, “I forgot those were even there.” Because I literally had. They were obviously not the part of the painting that interested me.
My favorite Frazetta was “Atlantis,” which depicts a statue of some long forgotten warrior among flooded ruins. I know that part of my fascination was the presence of a near-nude male figure, as in so many others. But there was also something about the melancholy sense of determination in the face of great loss that spoke to me. The evocation of a great disaster that reduced the heroic exploits of generations of champions to a few vague remembrances alluded to in the stories of more recent adventurers. I wrote more than one story attempting to evoke the feelings that the picture gave me of a once mighty and noble people who had been stuck down by overwhelming, perhaps uncaring forces. I also used variants of this scene in a large number of roleplaying games I ran.
At the time I was doing everything I could to deny my attraction to other guys. Reading some of those hyper-masculine, pulpy adventures of barbarians and warriors seemed like the opposite of anything gay. Because, frankly, the only women who ever appeared in those stories were there as a prize to be won or a damsel to be rescued (or both). But I remember one friend commenting on just how often Edgar Rice Burroughs, for instance, mentioned that his various heroes were “half-naked.” At the time, I suggested that a lot of those stories had originally be written to be serialized in magazines. The writer had to re-introduce each character in each installment, for the benefit of readers just joining the tale, or to refresh the memories for those for whom it had been a month since reading the previous chapter.
Many years later, I’m not so sure. There were a lot of guys I knew back then who were all about my age that were really into these kinds of books. We lent each other copies of books we couldn’t afford or hadn’t found our own copy of. We talked about our favorite parts. Some of us bought posters of the book covers. We speculated about which ones would make good movies. We drew pictures of scenes from the stories. We tried to write similar stories of our own. In the years since, more than half of those guys have come out as gay or bisexual.
So maybe I wasn’t the only one who spent a lot of time staring at those cover paintings.
The Best Kind of Books Are Magic Books – more of why I love sf/f
They have various misadventures with their wishes. Most of the misadventures are funny, though a few are a bit intense. It was a fun book. I read it several times before I had to take it back to the library. And I was extremely pleased to learn, when I took it back, that the library had a few more books by the author (Edward Eager), some of which starred the same set of siblings. In fairly short order I had devoured Magic by the Lake, Magic or Not?, and Seven-Day Magic. Which was the extent of what that library had. It wouldn’t be until six grade that I found copies of The Time Garden and The Well Wishers. I was getting to be a bit old for them by that point, but I recall enjoying them… Continue reading The Best Kind of Books Are Magic Books – more of why I love sf/f
The Moon Harshed My Mellow: more of why I love sf/f
Last week I mentioned that Heinlein’s later writing, when compared to his earlier writing, was like a completely different man. That was both true, and misleading. Heinlein’s writing career spanned from the 1940s into the 1990s, and society underwent more than a few changes as to what was allowed in mainstream publications during that time. Through most of the 40s and 50s, for instance, anything remotely sexual was almost completely taboo in fiction, while racial topics could usually only be broached in metaphor. Then there was the legendary John W. Campbell, who edited the magazine Astounding Science Fiction (now known as Analog) from 1937 until his death in 1971. Campbell allowed absolutely no sex in stories he published. Campbell also insisted that humans always be superior to any aliens they met. Campbell seems to have been slightly more racist than the average white american during the 30s—which did not change at all even though he lived through the civil rights movements of the 60s. Continue reading The Moon Harshed My Mellow: more of why I love sf/f
Citizen of the (two-fisted) Galaxy: more of why I love sf/f
I can’t remember the first Robert Heinlein science fiction book I ever read. My mom (who had been teased as a child because of the way she spoke) was determined that I would learn to speak correctly, and decided the best way to teach me proper grammar was to read to me from her favorite authors. So before I could talk, she would read aloud from her Agatha Christie murder mysteries and her Robert Heinlein science fiction books. Later, when I could talk, she would make me repeat back whole sentences as she read. Besides turning me into a lifelong fan of mysteries and sci fi, this project also accidentally taught me how to read long before I got to school.
While I don’t remember the first, I do remember several that I read during elementary school and into middle school… Continue reading Citizen of the (two-fisted) Galaxy: more of why I love sf/f
A Boy and His Telepathic Cat: more of why I love sf/f
I believe that I first read it in fourth grade. It was a hardback copy from the school library with the original title: Star Man’s Son. I found the copy with the blue and white cover and the alternate title in a used bookstore sometime in middle school. The novel is set in the mid-23rd Century, two hundred years after a nuclear disaster has destroyed civilization. The protagonist, Fors, is the son of a Star Man, who have been scouring the earth for old technological treasures, books, and the like that they are preserving as part of a plan to eventually rebuild a civilization. Fors is a mutant with silver hair and mild psychic powers who is ostracized by the other Star Men after his father dies. He has a series of adventures with his unnaturally intelligent cat, Lyra, eventually proving himself worth of carrying the distinctive star badge of his father’s people.
Th novel was originally written in 1952, and was intended for the young adult market, so the plot and setting don’t seem terribly original now. But she described Fors’s and Lyra’s world vividly enough to seize my imagination. Having a hero be a young person who is rejected by his own people for being a freak is something that most kids could related to, let alone a closeted gay nerd who loved science growing up with creationist fundamentalists. And what kid wouldn’t want to go on fantastic adventures with a kickass telepathic cat as a companion?
Despite the fact that I read it so many times, the specifics of the plot never stay with me. I remember the setting, the hero, and the cat. There were various encounters with less civilized tribal cultures, but I don’t remember any specifics. I don’t even remember what discovery he made at the end to earn his place with the Star Men.
But I loved that book!
It is important to note that this book pre-dated the movie of similar name by many years. And the movie bears almost no connection to the plot of the book. I understand that Ms. Norton received a licensing fee for the movie, but I don’t know whether it was meant to be an adaptation. Anyway, Norton’s novel is about a man of Navajo descent named Hosteen Storm who has a telepathic link to certain animals. Storm and his companions end up on a colony world after leaving the military. Star Hunter, on the hand, is about a young guy who discovers he has another person’s memories and a bunch of people are out to get him.
Just skimming the titles in the very long bibliography of Norton’s work on Wikipedia brings a fond smile to my face. Whether she was writing science fiction or fantasy (or the occasional historical novel), she created scores of imaginary worlds that I wanted to run away to, and gave me characters I wanted to be like. A recurring theme was the outsider who finds or makes their own niche in the world. Her stories made me believe that it didn’t matter if people called me a freak, or said I was irrelevant or unsuitable because of some arbitrary standard—what mattered was what I did with the hand fate dealt me.
That was an inclusive message I desperately needed to hear growing up. Fortunately, Andre Norton was there to show me the way.
Tom Puppy and the Visitor from Planet Clueless
A Sad Puppy/Rabid Puppy supporter posted an op-ed on the men’s rights site Return of the Kings (he links to and heavily paraphrases one of the Sad Puppy podcasts), “How Female-Dominated Publishing Houses Are Censoring Male Authors” that is a great example of several of the issues that I believe underpin the Sad Puppy position. Never mind that the statistics show that men make up more than 65% of the annual publishing lists of most of the publishing houses, and male-authored books comprise more the 80% of books reviewed in the major publications, this guy is here to tell us that men are being censored!
His proof is an anecdote told to him by a veteran who had written a book about his experiences while serving in Iraq and Afghanistan who claimed to have gotten his book through several phases of the publishing process, only to be rejected at the last step because a senior editor who happened to be a woman was offended by one line in the book and said, “he’s an asshole, we don’t want to work with him.” I have a hard time swallowing the story as stated. But even if we take it at face value, the story boils down to an editor deciding that someone who is difficult to work with wasn’t worth the time, effort, and stress required to work with them.
He’s a first-time author, never been published before, has no name recognition, no proven track record. I don’t believe for a moment that it was a single line in the book that set anything off. I suspect that the author had behaved abominably to several people in the process up to that point and the book itself was of only middling quality. An important part of an editor’s job is to recognize which stories their readers will enjoy reading. Another important job is to weigh the costs and benefits of working with a specific story and author. If a particular book does not look like a blockbuster that will sell zillions of copies, it isn’t worth the time and effort to put up with a lot of assholery through the process of re-writes, galley proofs, et cetera.
That isn’t anti-male prejudice, that’s good business practice.
The fact that this anecdote is swallowed without examination—without considering the possibility that one could try to figure out what behaviors led to the characterization of asshole and try changing those behaviors—shows just how big the privilege blinders are on these guys. Imagine! If you’re nice to people they’re willing to help you. If you aren’t, they have no motivation to stick their necks out for you. And deciding to expend your employer’s money and the time of yourself and other employees on turning a manuscript into a published book and then distributing it is sticking your neck out.
This is one of the fundamental blind spots of the various puppies: they are convinced that the only reason their stories aren’t bestsellers and award winners and the only reason that they aren’t met at every convention by crowds of screaming fans must be the result of a conspiracy. It isn’t possible that their writing is mediocre. It isn’t possible that their subject matter isn’t of interest to anyone but angry misogynist racist homophobic men such as themselves. It isn’t possible that their predilection for making outrageous statements comparing gay people to termites in need of extermination might make anyone who knows or loves a gay person less than thrilled to hear more of what they have to say. It isn’t possible that characterizing some woman’s clothing as an all-day slut walk might be off-putting to anyone who is or loves a woman. It isn’t possible that characterizing people of color as half-savages might make people of any ethnicity less than enthusiastic about cheering everything you say.
Instead of exercising our own judgement about what works to read and who to be fans of, apparently we should all feel grateful that they would deign to allow us to bask in the glow of their wit and wisdom.
Time Travellers Strictly Cash: more of why I love sf/f
It was in the pages of Galaxy that I first “met” Spider Robinson, who wrote their book review column at the time. The books he reviewed were books that either had just come out in hardback or were going to be coming out soon, so they were never books I would be seeing in a while. If a book wasn’t purchased by the local public library, my only option back then was to happen upon a paperback book when the family took a trip to the larger town (across the state line) where they actually had bookstores!
Even though I often didn’t see the books he reviewed until years later, his book reviews gave me a sense of belonging to the sci fi tribe. And they were just fun to read!
Robinson wrote his own science fiction, too. I believe I read a few of the Callahan’s short stories out of order as they appeared in the magazines. It wasn’t until I was in college when I found a copy of Time Traveler’s Strictly Cash in a used bookstore that I read a bunch of them in order. I immediately became an even bigger Spider Robinson fan.
It’s hard to describe the Callahan’s stories. Most of them are set in a bar that somehow manages to attract aliens, time travelers, and various mythical creatures each lost in different ways. They were sort of like Twilight Zone episodes… except (almost) always uplifting. Originally, the Callahan stories were semi-standalone stories, most of which were published in the magazine Analog Science Fiction. The stories often illustrated the Law of Conservation of Pain and Joy (also known as Callahan’s Law): “Shared pain is lessened; shared joy, increased—thus do we refute entropy.” Robinson wrote the Callahan’s stories as ideas occurred to him, so he didn’t have a grand plan for continuity. So in the later books as he transitioned from short stories to novels things occasionally went off the rails. But even then, the stories had more than enough heart to patch over the plot holes.
He’s also written novels outside of the Callahan’s universe. My particular favorites are Mindkiller and Telempath, though he is probably more famous for the Stardancer series written in collaboration with his wife, Jeanne Robinson. He’s won three Hugo Awards, a Nebula, the John W. Campbell Award, and the Robert A. Heinlein Award for Lifetime Achievement. So I’m not the only one who likes his work.
I read pretty much every single thing he wrote from 1970s, through the 80s, and a bit into the 90s. He kept writing and still is writing. His most recent novel was published in 2008; he’s been reporting off and on about progress on his next novel on his web site, but he’s also been dealing with serious health issues (both his own and in the family), which has slowed him down.
As I said, I kept reading everything he wrote into the 90s. Around 1993 or ’94 I found myself drifting away from Robinson. Some of it was just issues in my life. I finished coming out of the closet, I got divorced, and a lot of family upheaval happened. This is also the time period when, in my opinion, the Callahan stories started going off the rails. I had also come to the conclusion that I just didn’t agree with the philosophy that seemed to underpin every story he wrote: if only people could communicate more clearly, all conflict would cease. So I stopped reading his new material. I would still pull out my old favorites from time to time to re-read.
In 2000, I read a book review by someone else (unfortunately I don’t remember who) of a new Callahan novel, Callahan’s Key. The reviewer mentioned a similar dissatisfaction that had caused him to stop enjoying Robinson’s writing around the same time I had quit. And the review said that this novel captured at least some of the old magic. The reviewer said the new novel was a joy to read.
So I picked it up. And I read it, and it did have a lot of the fun of the earliest stories. It was not, in any way, a rehashing of them, though most of the characters make an appearance (and team up to save the world, literally). It reminded me of why I had loved his writing to begin with.
I think what appeals to me most about Spider is his unabashed enthusiasm for the idea of science fiction itself. That came through in his book reviews, of course, but also in other essays, introductory material he wrote for the short story collections, but also in the stories themselves. I still remember one comment about Dune Messiah, the first sequel to Frank Herbert’s Dune: it had plot holes you could drive a truck through, but you didn’t care, because the rolling grandeur of Herbert’s vision swept you along.
And he was right.
Robinson’s work epitomizes the giddy hope for a better tomorrow that is at the heart of some of the best science fiction. That exuberant expectation of better things to come is what first drew me to the genre. I’m grateful to have had Spider has a guide and companion in my own search of that wonderful tomorrow.
Font Folly 