Well, we’ve got another episode for your listening pleasure! This week we talk about mutant prehistoric whales, Doctor Who, Spiderman, libraries, and more. You can stream or download the episode here (or via iTunes). Feel free to let us know what you think and don’t forget to send us your responses to the question of the week. Anywho!
I have a new poll up, and because there are quite a few choices to pick from, I could really use your help. Not too long ago I acquired a wild Boston fern, and I asked folks to suggest names, which would appear in a poll (this one!). So, now I have a list of names, and all of you get a chance to vote on which one you like best. The names are: Dave Fred Salvador von Cellulose Fern Kiwi Charlie Bill Captain Adama To vote, just come on to the main page and find the poll on the left sidebar. Two clicks and you’re done! Thanks for the help and the suggestions, folks. Now let’s name that fern!
So, a couple weeks ago I asked you to name your favorite genre, and now we have the results: Science Fiction — 17.5% Fantasy — 70.5% Horror — 5.5% Other — 5.5% The above figures beg the question: why are you reading this blog? Since I focus primarily on science fiction (at least in my commentary), it’s very interesting to see that the vast majority of you are fantasy fans. That’s not a complaint, just a curiosity, and I suspect that it has to do with the fact that many of you are probably cross-genre readers who happen to like fantasy slightly more than science fiction. In that case, then, it makes sense. But, if not, then I have no clue how to account for the huge difference in genre interests. Anywho, thanks for voting! More polls to come.
You might remember this rather cryptic post from a few days ago in which I discussed my apprehension about engaging, once again, with a community and topic I have addressed before (don’t worry, I’m going to clarify everything in the bottom of this post, but first, I want to explain my position). In that post, I commented that I thought there were really only two ways to go about it: 1) address the topic here and take apart all that happened and perhaps stir the controversy pot again and talk, yet again, about a topic I have discussed here a number of times so far this year (and all of them rather…controversial), or 2) disengage entirely from the people involved in this problem and those who use the same form of rhetoric or are at least part of the same general movement. Both of the above options are seriously flawed. In the first case, I’ll be adding fuel to a fire that I think is burning in the wrong place and needs to be seriously redirected, and that’s something that, quite honestly, I’m no longer interested in–mostly because I think the rhetoric behind said discussions general runs or dissolves into something like this: “I’m right because I say so and because I disregard contrary evidence and resort to ad hominem,” which is a poor argument indeed. In the second case, I’ll be punishing people who aren’t responsible for the actions of others. It’s a silly option the more I think about it, but the segment of that community who brought me to this decision have begun to influence how I think about the movement of which they are a part. Such influence wouldn’t a problem if I disagreed with all of them, but is because I think, overall, the movement is absolutely vital. The fact that my opinions are being tainted by the more radical group is, for me, unacceptable. It’s a terrible, unfair human reaction that we all have at some point or another. Pathos works in wondrous ways. So, I have come up with a third option that is a compromise between the two. I have made the decision not to discuss certain aspects of the topic on this blog. The topic will still appear, but probably less frequently and definitely not in relation to the aspect that I disagree with. I’m also going to officially cut out and ignore the segment of the community who I feel have lost their way, rather than everyone. I’m not going to allow that segment to influence how I feel about the movement in general, because it’s not fair to those who are doing good work with better arguments, better tactics, and a larger interest in open discussion with people who may be outside of their movement. I’d rather help the people I agree with and completely ignore those that I don’t, than disengage entirely. And I am well aware that this is not a perfect option either, but I prefer to save my sanity and focus more on what I can actually do to make things better, rather than waste my time arguing with people who cannot think outside of their view of reality. Having said all of that, you might be wondering what I’m actually talking about. I’m talking about the women’s rights movement. There have been a number of instances this year, but the catalyst was this “argument” (for lack of a better word) over at Cheryl Morgan’s blog (between Morgan and myself, and eventually between Morgan and a friend). You can read the comments if you so choose. I assume that if you read the comments (mine, Cheryl’s, and my friend’s) objectively, you’ll see what’s wrong with the whole thing (and I’m not saying that what I wrote was somehow infallible, because it wasn’t). So, that’s that. The condescension, rudeness, dismissal, and so on are not effective strategies, and seem only to alienate people who might actually be willing to learn, rather than change opinions or perform a didactic role. There’s a complete lack of mutual respect, and you can’t foster good relations, change, and so on without that (in my opinion). So, I’m disengaging and focusing my energies on things that are either more interesting to me or might produce better results (you know, like supporting campaigns to help bring educational supplies to women in impoverished regions across the world…like the one here, which I’ve donated to before). So, how are you?
Guess what? I have winners for the Darren Shan contest. I apologize for the long wait, folks, but some obligations came up and stole away my time, and part of my soul. But, I have winners now, and I’m going to tell you who they are…right after this message from our sponsors. Okay, so I don’t have any sponsors, but it might be funny if I did, right? Anywho, so there were three ways to enter the contest, as you might recall. You could leave a comment on this thread, you could send me an email, or you could leave a comment telling me the weirdest, scariest, most bizarre thing you had witnessed or had happen to you. Two winners would be picked at random, while the third (or first, depending on how you look at it) would be selected based on their little story. So, the first two winners (chosen at random by a computer program) are (after the fold): Dave Baxter and Teresa! The winner for the scariest or creepiest story is Tina, who said the following: The first time I went to India (in 1999), I went to Varanasi (aka Benaras) which is THE holiest of holy cities in India. It’s where the living and the dead collide. It is perhaps one of the most crowded cities in all of India, yet the river is littered with dead things (dead cows, dead fish) and, because mendicants (holy men who have forsaken all worldly possessions) travel to Varanasi to die (you gain a certain amount of karma for dying in such a holy place) it is not uncommon to see vultures picking at decaying human carcasses. True story–I saw it all. Varanasi is perhaps most famous in the western world for its ghats–you’ve probably seen those pictures in National Geographic of way too many people crowded together on steps that go down into the water.THAT’S Varanasi). One of the most famous ghats are The Burning Ghats–the place where Hindu’s cremate their dead. I was young, stupid, and totally out of line… I went as a sort of touristing expediton to the Burning Ghats. The Burning Ghats are lifeless. Literally. Dead bodies wrapped in white sheets rest atop pyres of dull brown logs. The men of the family–sons, cousins, nephews, sometimes fathers–huddle around the bodies. Also dressed in white, they look like wraiths waiting to welcome a new soul to their ghoulish brotherhood. The ghat is devoid of color–no flags, no colorful saries, no saffron robes for the sadhus. Only the brown, gray and white of death. Until they light the pyre and hot yellow, red, and sometimes blue flames lick up the side of the wood, devour the body. It smells like BBQ. But that’s not the worse part. Down towards the water, a man piles something into a boat. At first, it appears as though he’s stacking bundles of wood tied together by white cloth. It makes sense, but it doesn’t. If it were wood, he should be unloading it at the Burning Ghat for use in the pyres, not loading it from the Ghat into his boat. I squint and peer through the smoke that fills the air. I move down the steps, closer to the water. Babies. He’s stacking babies swaddled in the same white cloth as the burning corpses above. He rows out into the water. Solemnly, the boy that is with him lifts each white bundle, ties a weight around it and drops it into the water with a small, hollow plop. Babies can’t be burned. They have no soul. I’m not sure what is most terrifying about this story. Maybe it’s the end with the babies or just the general feel. I have no clue if it is real, but if it is, then that’s a place I don’t intend to ever visit. Sounds like something out of a really terrifying horror movie. So, congrats to the winners (who should receive an email from me soon). Thanks to everyone who entered! I appreciate it. Stay tuned for future giveaways!
Not too long ago The Dalkey Archive was having a large sale for books and I decided to partake (because what else was I going to do? Let the books sit there, un-bought by me? Yeah right!). I’m fairly new to The Dalkey Archive, but they have published work by some very interesting international authors (who play with genre, by the way), and that’s definitely something that is right up my alley. So, the follow books were the result of my browsing at The Dalkey Archive (after the fold):And here are the descriptions, from left to right, top to bottom (taken from The Dalkey Archive): 1. Thank You For Not Reading by Dubravka Ugresic In this collection of acerbic essays, Ugresic dissects the nature of the contemporary book industry, which she argues is so infected with the need to create and promote literature that will appeal to the masses—literally to everyone—that if Thomas Mann were writing nowadays, his books wouldn’t even be published in the U.S. because they’re not sexy enough. A playful and biting critique, Ugresic’s essays hit on all of the major aspects of publishing: agents, subagents, and scouts, supermarket-like bookstores, Joan Collins, book fairs that have little to do with books, authors promoted because of sex appeal instead of merit, and editors trying to look like writers by having their photograph taken against a background of bookshelves. Thanks to cultural influences such as Oprah, The Today Show, and Kelly Ripa, best-seller lists have become just a modern form of socialist realism, a manifestation of a society that generally ignores literature in favor of the next big thing. 2. The Terrible Twos by Ishmael Reed The Terrible Twos is a wickedly funny, sharp-edged fictional assault on all those sulky, spoiled naysayers needing instant gratification—Americans. Ishmael Reed’s sixth novel depicts a zany, bizarre, and all-too believable future where mankind’s fate depends upon St. Nicholas and a Risto rasta dwarf named Black Peter, who together wreak mischievous havoc on Wall Street and in the Oval Office. This offbeat, on-target social critique makes marvelous fun of everything that is American, from commercialism to Congress, Santa Claus to religions cults. 3. The Terrible Threes by Ishmael Reed With offbeat humor and on-target social criticism, Ishmael Reed presents in The Terrible Threes a vision of America in the not-too-distant future, a portrait of a fairy tale gone awry. Opening on Thanksgiving Day in the late 1990s—three years after the former fashion-model president was laughed out of office for admitting that Saint Nicholas knew more about the workings of the executive branch than he did—the White House is implicated in a plot to rid America of its surplus people and the Third World of its nuclear weapons. 4. Our Circus Presents by Luscian Dan Teodorovici Every day, the Birdman performs the same ritual: he climbs out onto his window ledge to see if he can manage to kill himself—and never does. The Birdman is a member of a loose-knit group of failed suicides, each pursuing absurd ways to end their lives: one saving up lost-dog reward money to buy enough good whiskey to drink himself to death, another hoping to contract a fatal disease by sleeping with as many women as possible. When it seems these routines will continue indefinitely, the Birdman meets a “professional” suicide: the dangerous and inscrutable “man with orange suspenders,” who makes a living by trying to hang himself whenever he sees a potential rescuer approaching. This chance encounter, which leads at last to a real death, will force the Birdman to confront the roots of his desire to escape from life, and to see first-hand that dying is more than just a rehearsal. 5. Christopher Unborn by Carlos Fuentes Conceived exactly nine months before the five-hundredth anniversary of Columbus’s discovery of the New World, the narrator of Christopher Unborn spends the novel waiting to be born. But what kind of world will he be delivered into? “Makesicko City,” as the punning narrator calls it, is not doing well in this alternate, worst-case-scenario 1992. Politicians are selling pieces of their country to the United States. Black acid rain falls relentlessly, forewarning of the even worse ecological catastrophes to come. Gangs of children, confined to the slums, terrorize their wealthy neighbors. A great novel of ideas and a work of aesthetic boldness, Christopher Unborn is a unique, and quite funny, work from one of the twentieth century’s most respected authors. 6. In the Penny Arcade by Steven Millhauser Winner of the 1997 Pulitzer Prize After the success of his first novels (Edwin Mullhouse and Portrait of a Romantic), Steven Millhauser went on to enchant critics and readers with two short story collections that captured the magic and beauty of his longer works in vivid miniature. The seven stories of In the Penny Arcade blend the real and the fantastic in a seductive mix that illuminates the full range of the author’s gifts, from the story of “August Eschenburg,” the clockmaker’s son whose extraordinary talent for creating animated figures is lost on a world whose taste for the perverse and crude supercedes that of the refined and beautiful, to “Cathay,” a kingdom whose wonders include elaborate landscape paintings executed on the eyelids and nipples of court ladies. 7. The Jade Cabinet by Rikki Ducornet National Book Critics Circle Award Finalist Made speechless by her eccentric father, the beautiful Etheria is traded for a piece of precious jade. Memory, her sister, tells her story, that of a childhood enlivened by Lewis Carroll and an orangutan named Dr. Johnson, and envenomed by the pernicious courtship of Radulph Tubbs, Queen Victoria’s own Dragon of Industry. The Jade Cabinet, a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, is both a riveting novel and a reflection on the nature of memory and desire, language and power. 8. Storytown by Susan Daitch The distinctions between art and life are blurred in this unsettling and tantalizing first collection of short fiction by novelist Susan Daitch (The Colorist,
