Apparently one car company is already thinking about the future, in which zombies take over the forest and force wannabe baseball players to run for their lives. Can you guess which company? I’d buy a car from them, that’s for sure… (Thanks to Grasping for the Wind for the original discovery.)
I posted a bunch of tweets about why I’m giving up talking about politics (or dealing with it), but the Google+ version more effectively says what I want to say here: I’m going to give politics a rest for as long as I can. That doesn’t mean I won’t talk about issues of gender or sexuality or race, because those are things that I am not willing to bend on when it comes to fair treatment, but I’m not going to play the Democrat vs. GOP vs. Tea Party vs. Socialists vs. Whatever Stupid Political Party B.S. that has been going on. Conversations among such groups are repetitive, pointless, mindless, and generally serve no function other than to make me angry. Intelligent conversation is dead in the realm of politics. I’m not wasting anymore energy on it. What I am going to do is write more, blog more, talk about things that don’t make me angry, do things that make me happy, and do everything I can to make my life as good as I can without screwing someone else over (on purpose). I’ve got science fiction and fantasy to write. I’ve got votes to cast. I’ve got a life to live. I’ve got children to have and a family to raise and lizards to tend to. Which means, from this point on, I won’t be following people who serve no purpose other than to babble about which GOP candidate is being a dumbass or which Democrat got his wang shot on camera or why Nancy Pelosi sold her womb to harbor the devil’s mutant offspring or why John Boehner is orange and smells suspiciously like Cheetoh’s. I’m not interested in politics as usual, because it’s infuriating what such things have done to this country, to the dialogue, to our ability to talk to one another about anything, to make REAL compromises on REAL issues that matter to REAL people. It’s time for a better world, and I’m going start making it better by not playing the Political Mambo anymore. You’re free to join me if you so choose. That’s basically where I’m at right now. With all that garbage going on in my life, I need relief, and I’m not getting it by participating in the world of politics as it currently stands. And so, I’m taking a break, if not forever, then at least indefinitely. Now it’s time to write…
(I’ve decided to review each of the stories in Gateways — a collection edited by Elizabeth Anne Hull in honor of Frederik Pohl — individually. I will collect my thoughts about the anthology as a whole later. I’m doing this as a kind of experiment, as I find reviewing collections enormously difficult.) David Brin’s contribution to Gateways is an amusing 90+ page novella set in a post-global-warming China. Wer is a poor man trying to make a life for his wife and child by salvaging “valuable items” from the submerged ruins of old Shanghai in order to build a suitable habitat on the carcass of an old mansion. Understandably, things haven’t been going so well — that is until Wer discovers a secret basement full of unusual stones, one of which turns out to be an alien artifact sent thousands of years ago as part of an endless chain message to the stars. And Wer isn’t the only one surprised by the find: soon private groups intrude upon his life, pulling him away from his family and making him wonder if he’ll ever see them again. “Shoresteading” was a welcome shift from the fantasy novels I usually read for review. Purely science fiction, Brin’s tale is filled with exciting ideas. Brin fuses technology and slum-life seamlessly (in top-notch worldbuilding fashion). His world feels all-too-real, even while the narrative plays on stories we’ve read or seen before (alien contact/alien probe tales). And I think that’s what sets Brin’s story above other kinds of alien contact narratives: the alien contact is secondary, in a way, precisely because Brin’s main character is not an upper class everybody, but a lower class nobody who knows how he can be used and manipulated by the upper class and yet still must navigate that upper class world and the decimated planet around him. Wer’s struggle, to put it simply, is wonderfully human and wonderfully three dimensional. One of the other unique things about the “Shoresteading” is how Brin attempts to authenticate his Chinese vision. While I profess an ignorance about Chinese culture, Brin’s new Shanghai and his Chinese characters feel real, from their interaction with the decimated world around them to the ways in which Brin describes the new China. There are even hints at Chinese mythology in this story, with giant serpents and other animalistic robots making appearances (though some might apply the Jonah and the Whale story to “Shoresteading” as an allegorical comparative). While Brin’s vision is enjoyable, the story itself does suffer from some minor pacing issues. Brin shifts his focus more than once in the story in a slightly noticeable way. This produces a multi-tiered narrative which I knew couldn’t be fulfilled by the end and which gives the ending an incomplete feel, as if Brin meant for it to be part of a larger narrative and simply cut it off to fit it into a novella. The end doesn’t resolve the original conflict set up in the first ten to twenty pages, though it does hint that Wer will play a more active role in the future (a slow development that has show Wer going from helpless “toy” to empowered individual). In some ways, I wanted more of a resolution precisely because I cared about Wer and what happened to him. Perhaps the intention wasn’t to “complete” Wer’s narrative, but rather to provide an ambiguous close to reflect the initial perpetual struggle produced in the beginning. But despite feeling incomplete, I still quite enjoyed “Shoresteading.” Placing this story at the start of Gateways was a smart move. Anything less entertaining would make continuing with the anthology less-than-appealing. Instead, I, as a reader, want to know what other fascinating stories have been included. So far, things are looking up. ———————————————— Here are the other reviews (more as they are written): Below are the reviews of other stories in the collection (which will be updated as reviews become available): “Shoresteading” by David Brin “Von Neuman’s Bug” by Phyllis and Alex Eisenstein “Sleeping Dogs” by Joe Haldeman “Gates (Variations)” by Larry Niven
I’ve been working on a post-cyberpunk space battle type story for Bryan Schmidt, who has an anthology coming out soon called Space Battles (presumably that’s the final title). The following is connected, distantly, to a cyberpunk universe I’ve been semi-developing via short stories. Those of you who have read my short fiction will know that “Once a Dream Did Weave a Shade,” “The Decisions of Gods” (which is supposed to be published at some point), and a few incomplete stories are all part of the same universe as “A Winter in Starlight.” The current project, however, is set several hundred years after the events in “Once a Dream Did Weave a Shade” (and even further distant than “The Decisions of Gods,” which is the more fantasy-oriented of all the stories). I should note that not all of the stories in this universe are cyberpunk. Many use features common to cyberpunk, but they lack the internal elements which make cyberpunk a politically-oriented subgenre. Anywho. I’ll shut up now. Feel free to let me know what you think: Forming up, she follows the other symbio-soldiers around Earth’s wide belly, admiring the wide green patches of forest, and the enormous, multi-colored oblong farmlands with their genetic stock. Fifteen billion mouths to feed. Twenty-two star systems to run. And then it happens: the lights flicker in her mind, warnings building up the tension in her muscles and stims filling her tongue with the faint taste of sugar. Two dots appear in her vision, red against a sea of greens and blues, closing in on her position. She flinches, pulling Castor into a wide arc, rolling her down and under to avoid the other symbio-soldiers engaged in similar evasive maneuvers. Castor’s external cameras track the energy blasts until one of the blue bulges crashes into a symbio-soldier, collapsing the inner chamber and ejecting part of a leg and entire walls of organic sinew. Ashland can feel it. Bright hot paint ripping into her spinal cord. A whimper sounding her mind, in all of their minds at once. And then Castor cuts it off with a jolt of stims. She licks her teeth and flicks to the subchannels.
Yesterday was a shit day, to put it bluntly. Most of you know that one of my leopard geckos has been suffering from an eye infection for a long time (the better part of three years, if not longer). He’s been to the veterinarian so many times since I moved to Gainesville that almost everyone at the office knows me, if not by name, then at least by face or through Noodles. A couple weeks ago, things took a turn for the semi-worst and he had to have his eye removed. The surgery seemed to make things better. The scar was healing well enough, the bad eye was gone, and he started becoming a little more active after he went off the pain meds. Then things went south, and fast. Earlier in the week, he had several muscle tremors — tail twitches and lower body convulsions. I took him to the vet, they weren’t sure what was going on because he didn’t display the twitching there, and I went home with the order to watch for more activity and to record everything if I could. Then on Friday (yesterday) morning, he had a massive seizure (or something that looked like it). His tail and head went back and forth uncontrollably. His mouth was open, either in pain or because he also couldn’t control the motion. And then it stopped and he seemed to lose strength in his body, much like people with seizures sometimes lose strength or control in parts of their body. The event made clear to me that he wasn’t going to make it. Late Friday morning, after my vet had looked him over and come to the same teary-eyed conclusion, I had Noodles put to rest. Needless to say, Friday was one of the worst days I’ve ever had. I’ve been through so much with Noodles. I don’t care that he’s “just a lizard.” He was one of the best damned lizards to ever live. I’ve had him since he was a little tyke and everyone who knew him thought he was the cutest, sweetest little lizard they ever knew. I’ve spent several hundred dollars on medications, thousands on medical bills, and hours and hours of my time. I’ve put off vacations. I haven’t seen most of my family in two years, because I always needed someone who could administer his medications (sometimes as many as five medications at once). And after all of that, it doesn’t seem fair that he couldn’t have five more years of healthy life. He never did anything wrong. He was sweet and wonderful and the best anyone could ask for in a lizard. And he went through hell with eye infections and medications and me poking and prodding to get him to take meds and food and what not. I think it’s all really hitting me now because I’ve lost so many leopard geckos in the last two years: Little Buddy, Angel, Sweetie, Taj, Herbert, and now Noodles. Six leopard geckos. Six friends. And worst of all, six the sweetest little geckos I’ve known, most of them I raised either from the egg or from a few months after hatching. It’s not easy being so involved in a pet’s life and then losing them. And it’s not easy losing Noodles, because he’s the only gecko I still have with me who has been with me since I began keeping lizards in my house. My mother begged me to keep Mellie with her in Oregon (my first leopard gecko) and she also stole my bearded dragon (I say that jokingly, because really Che Che has the best life a beardie could ask for, since my mother and her partner have built him a personal garden). And, of course, I’ve just been through so much with Noodles. He was a great lizard and a great friend. Now he’s gone… In case you all want to know what he looked like, here you go (after the fold):
The next chapter is finally up. “The Golden Path and Silhouettes” continues James’ journey to Arnur as he and his companions attempt to escape Luthien’s forces and survive the unexpected terrors of a world gone mad. Now they have to find the Golden Path, which will lead them safely to Arnur. Some things, however, aren’t easily found… Chapter Fourteen — Download (MP3) Thanks for listening. Please give WISB a review on iTunes! There’s an extended apology at the end of the episode (in case you’re wondering why it is so late). The short of it is: school (as expected), more surgery (unexpected), and…yeah. (Don’t forget to check out what I’ve done to sweeten the pot for anyone who donates to the project. Plenty of free things are available, from ebooks, paperbacks, random letters from me, and even a character written about you into the world of WISB. Please consider donating!) (All podcast chapters will be listed on the Podcast page.)
