Award Recommendations: Things I’m Eyeing for the Awards Season (Suggestions Welcome)
A.C. Wise and Sarah Pinsker suggested I put together a list of recommendations for the awards season (Nebula nominations are coming up or something). So, that’s what I’m going to do. For now, I’m only going to discuss six categories, as I don’t read often enough in the others to have a say yet (YET). Recommendations for any category, listed or otherwise, are more than welcome. Note: I’ve included links to interviews or discussions at The Skiffy and Fanty Show about some of the items (which may explain why I’m voting for many of these). Here goes: Novels: City of Stairs by Robert Jackson Bennett (S&F Interview) Hurricane Fever by Tobias Buckell (S&F Interview) Ancillary Sword by Ann Leckie (S&F Interview) The Three by Sarah Lotz (S&F Interview) Memory of Water by Emmi Itaranta (S&F interview forthcoming) Gemsigns by Stephanie Saulter (S&F Interview) Into the Grey by Celine Kiernan (S&F Interview) Zero Sum Game by SL Huang (my review) Graphic Novels: Ms. Marvel Volume 1: No Normal by G. Willow Wilson (episode forthcoming on S&F) Movies (narrowing this list is going to be difficult): Snowpiercer (may not be eligible due to weird release nonsense)(S&F Discussion) Interstellar (S&F Discussion) Guardians of the Galaxy (S&F Discussion) Big Hero 6 How to Train Your Dragon 2 Captain American: the Winter Soldier (S&F Discussion) Edge of Tomorrow (S&F Discussion) Jodorowsky’s Dune (WISB Review) Fancast: The Incomparable The Book was Better Doorway to the Hidden World Galactic Suburbia The Writer and the Critic The Three Hoarsemen The Skiffy and Fanty Show (duh) Fanwriter: Cora Buhlert Foz Meadows Liz Bourke Kameron Hurley (S&F Interview) Paul Weimer (his work on Skiffy and Fanty is worth an acknowledgment, I think) Fanzine: A Dribble of Ink Nerds of a Feather Bookworm Blues Ecdysis Semiprozine: The Book Smugglers Strange Horizons Related Work: Speculative Fiction 2013 (I’m totally biased because I’m editing the 2014 edition w/ Renay) So, what am I missing?
On World Fantasy Convention 2014
World Fantasy Con is over. I’m home. I’m alive. I’m back to the life of a grad student and adjunct faculty, with a side of writing. And these are my mystical thoughts on the whole experience: I began my journey in the fashion of a handrail used by a string of infected boat passengers. On Tuesday, I started feeling a cold coming on, and I frantically chowed down Vitamin C and everything else I could find to stifle the monster growing within me. Alas, the cold was up to the task and settled in by Wednesday morning, leaving me so wiped by Thursday that I had to cancel class in order to get a lot of rest before the 2-hour drive to Jacksonville and the 2-hour flight to Arlington. My flight was delayed by almost 3 hours, leaving me in an uncomfortable airport with death dribbling from my nostrils. The flight itself was terrible for the simple reason that sinus pressure + plane cabin pressure = a terrible combination. By the time I got to Arlington, I was completely wiped. Thankfully, I started feeling better by Friday, though spent most of that day (the 1st day of my WFC experience) napping. I also, thankfully, had the venerable Max Gladstone as a roommate — something which I would repeat again if we were ever at a con together and wanted to save money. He’s a pretty awesome guy, so getting to have morning chats with him certainly got my days off to a good start. Also: the rooms at the Marriot were basically studio apartments, which were surprisingly cheap. It certainly made rooming a much more comfortable experience. Despite beginning the convention as a plagued, sniffling monster, I thoroughly enjoyed WFC. I must admit that I missed all of the panels, which I blame on being sick and on taking the opportunity to check out D.C. (for the first time) with Arley Sorg and James Bradley (a good reason, after all). I was told before I even signed up for WFC that this particular con was more social than con-y. That’s certainly what I took away from the experience. There was so much chatting, hanging out, networking, and social silliness going on at WFC that I can completely understand the exhaustion many felt by Sunday afternoon (my exhaustion came in a different form, as I usually find myself very much becoming a little social butterfly at these things — a new thing for me, as I’ve only recently become a “con-goer”; being sick takes a bit of that away). On Friday, I joined Alyc Helms’ posse of dramatic readers, in which I played Ms. Wu, a Chinese tea lady who is secretly a hungry demon. Laughs were had, not just because of me (duh); the chapter from her upcoming novel, The Dragons of Heaven, was quite hilarious, and the various other cast members, including former Angry Robot editor Lee Harris, put on a good show. It was easily one of the most exciting readings I’d been to, and it gave me some great ideas for ways to conduct readings in the future. On Saturday, I read from my short story entitled “Sublight Smiles.” A handful of people were in attendance, which was lovely. My Nook decided to crash two paragraphs from the end, which is a reminder that one should not rely on technology for such things. Overall, I think the reading went well; it was my first real reading, and I suspect it won’t be my last. On Sunday, I somehow managed to snag a ticket to the banquet partially on the basis of looking rather sharp and spiffy in a sweater vest and tie. I hadn’t planned to attend the banquet for financial reasons ($65 = gah), but I’m thankful I did because I got to sit at a table with Scott Edelman and Jamie Todd Rubin. Jamie and I had a great conversation about writing over our meals (I had a delicious salmon for the main course, and an even more delicious chocolate tart for dessert — omg, the tart…OMG!). The Awards ceremony was pleasantly short. Mary Robinette Kowal told one of the most hilarious marionette stories I have ever heard. It involved costume malfunctions and penis swords, but I won’t tell you the story because there’s no way to do it any justice. Just ask Mary. The winners were a pleasant surprise, too. Sofia Samatar received the Best Novel award, which made me happy on so many levels. A Stranger in Olondria is an exceptional book, so it’s nice to see it getting recognition. Neil Clarke, Kate Baker, and Sean Wallace pulled in a Lovecraft bust for Clarkesworld, Andy Duncan & Ellen Klages won for Best Novella, and so on and so forth. A lovely evening was had by all. Well, maybe not all. Sofia took the opportunity to mention the controversy surrounding Lovecraft’s bust. Her acceptance speech could be summed up as “I am thankful for the recognition, but as a woman of color, I feel awkward accepting an award with this man’s head on it.” She, of course, has a point, so I’m glad the con organizers saw fit to announce that they are thinking about what to do with the award bust. My hope is that they’ll shift it to something more inclusive; I don’t see a point in using a person’s head for an award in a genre includes so many people from so many places — no matter their importance. That basically concludes what I was up to at the convention in a sort of official capacity. The real highlight of the convention, though, was meeting old friends and making new ones. I met up with fellow podcasters Mike Underwood and Stina Leicht, enjoyed catching up with Arley Sorg, Michael Martinez, Natalie Luhrs, Amy Sundberg, Fran Wilde, Myke Cole, and Carrie Patel. I met all sorts of people, too: Chadwick Ginther, Crystal Huff, Scott H. Andrews, Nina Niskanen, Melanie R. Meadors, Marco Palmieri,
Hugo Awards Recommendations: Which shorts / novelettes / novellas have I missed?
It’s almost that time again: time to nominate stuff for the Hugos. I usually miss a lot of stuff throughout the year, so I like to reach out to readers to see what they’d recommend so I can create a reading list for myself. Last time, you folks recommended so much that I ended up with a 1,200-page ebook! I want to give myself a little more time for the next nominating season. So…which short stories, novelettes, and novellas should I be reading? Let me know in the comments below!
On #GamerGate — Final Thoughts Before I Find Something Else to Do
If you have no idea what GamerGate is, the Wiki page gives a decent enough summary of the major events. Additional details can be found at RationalWiki. This is the only post I will write on this subject. At this point, I’m basically “over it.” The whole thing is a monumental mess. There’s abuse on both sides, accusations flying everywhere, and, once more, a lot of hard divisions. If GG had a purpose beyond its 4Chan origins, I think it’s now over with, either because the well-meaning people within it could not control the narrative or because GG was always a hijacked movement whose membership, in part, was about attacking women (I lean more towards the latter). For example, here’s a rough statistical analysis of what GamerGaters have been talking about in the last month; hint: ethics in journalism is pretty low on the list. So this is all I’m saying on GamerGate. I will not Tweet about it again. I will not write more blog posts. If someone decides to create an organized body of folks who are against corruption in games journalism, I’ll support it, but I cannot in good conscience support GG. These are my final thoughts: I’m sympathetic to the underlying message of good GamerGaters, despite knowing very little about the ethical issues in games journalism. Given that I find a great deal of what passes for journalism these days to be wildly unethical (if not straight up dishonest and worthless), I recognize the seriousness which such a topic can have within the field of gaming. However, I’m not a GG supporter for one simple reason: it has always been hijacked by scum. Scum who will try to destroy you for speaking out, especially if you’re a woman. We can sit around reporting accounts all we want, but the sad fact is that women who speak out against GG are being attacked, and since GG has no mechanism for purging this from its ranks — except to play a distracting game of self-defense, which doesn’t actually work — there’s no reason for me to associate myself with it.. As I’ve noted to some GamerGaters that I know, it’s difficult to argue that the “trolls” who have turned/kept the face of GG as that of a terrorist organization are not actually part of that group. Others have called this a No True Scotsman fallacy, which I think is somewhat unfair. GG is not an organized body. It has no defined membership with which to properly identify itself. What it has are factions of people saying “this is what GG is or is not” in defense of what are obviously objectionable behaviors by those who are associating themselves with the tag. Eventually, one has to admit that the tag has been tainted, and that trying to save it from its non-organized nature is pointless. How exactly can you claim that the people issuing rape and death threats are not part of GG when there’s no clear method for determining who is and isn’t part of GG, especially since some of the people who are issuing threats and abuse are also part of the original message of “ethics in journalism”?. The previous point becomes complicated by the fact that the public face of GG is hardly that of the less public face. There are people within GG who do stand against harassment and want to combat unethical behavior in games journalism. But these same people will often RT or support people like Adam Baldwin (an anti-LGBT loon), Christina Sommers (who stands against Title IX for women in science, and certainly stands against the same for women in gaming/tech, despite the fact that clearly those industries need changing), Breitbart (an ironically unethical “journalistic” space), and so on. Top that off with the fact that there’s no clear way to remove or denounce people like Vox Day (an unabashed misogynist who now supports the movement and wants his followers to do the same) and you end up with a situation in which even the supposed “good face” looks like it’s covered in pie. These are not the droids you’re looking for… It’s one thing to mistakenly tweet something from a controversial source. Perhaps you didn’t know. Perhaps you misunderstood. It happens. But at some point, you have to face reality. These aren’t the faces you want in your movement, particularly if you actually care about the issues you espouse. It’s for the same reason that I don’t think anyone should associate themselves with any anti-GGer who says we should stomp gamers back to irrelevancy (yes, this has been said). If you RT these people, you damage yourself (this is actually the product of an association fallacy, but good luck trying to convince the world of that fact).. It occurs to me that very little discussion has been had about those within GG who have been abused or threatened as a result of being part of that movement. Some of the claims are specious (Mike Cernovich claims to have been doxxed, but that’s patently false, as his business address was publicly available on a legal website (link does not contain the address; just a detractor’s take on Cernovich)), but others are far more serious. The problem, as I see it, is that it’s difficult to determine whether the people attacking on behalf of the anti-GG side are actually “real” in the sense of believing themselves to be part of that movement or just trolling everyone. There is a high likelihood that the same people who have hijacked/created GG are also dispensing attacks in the opposite direction, which seems possible based on the number of fake Twitter accounts, etc. that have been used to discredit GG detractors. Regardless, some of these attacks must be real, if by “attacks” we mean actual threats, not people calling GGers stupid (which is weak tea as far as I’m concerned). The Internet contains a climate of abuse. Raging, childish abuse. The adult world doesn’t make much room for straight
On Language and Reinforcing Bigotry
[Note: statistics will vary considerably depending where you are in the world. I’m using statistics and studies which are mostly relevant to the United States, and so this post will focus accordingly. This is my comfort zone, but I encourage others to take a look at these same concerns as they relate to their cultural contexts.] Language is our responsibility. How we use it determines everything from our ability to communicate with one another to how we talk about other people to how we describe the world we all share. Language is also one of the most effective ways by which we can share, distribute, and reinforce cultural values. Among the most pervasive values is bigotry in its many forms. If it were not already obvious, language and bigotry go hand in hand. What we call other people, how we refer to them in the media or “polite” conversation, and how we deal with the narratives presented to us by others not only defines the character of our bigotries and the language we use to talk about and reinforce those bigotries in the future (or the opposite, as the case may be). Language can do good, too, but when we are careless with it, it can do an almost immeasurable amount of damage to our cultural and individual identities, to our bodies, and so on. One of the most obvious examples of this involves the rhetoric surrounding Muslims in the United States and abroad. I can’t speak to the European context, but as an American, I know all too well how easy it is to fall into the trap of using language which, perhaps unintentionally, denigrates an entire people. Given that the majority of us get our information about Muslims from what we read, it is unsurprising that the majority of Americans have unfavorable views of Muslims or that a sizable portion of the population agrees with profiling Muslims/Arabs. There are numerous studies which confirm this view. For example, Christopher Bail’s upcoming book, Terrified: How Anti-Muslim Fringe Organizations Became Mainstream (2014; Princeton University Press), argues that representations of Muslims after 9/11 have tended to privilege narratives of fear by treating fringe (read: “radical, violent Islam”) Muslim groups with the same value as non-fringe (read: “everyday Muslims”) Muslim groups. In essence, this practice “created a gravitational pull or ‘fringe effect’ that realigned inter-organizational networks and altered the contours of mainstream discourse itself.” Additionally, Evelyn Alsultany suggests in “Arabs and Muslims in the Media after 9/11: Representations Strategies for a ‘Postrace’ Era” (2013; American Quarterly, Vol 65, No 1) that narrative television and news networks have engaged in a mode of discourse in which [positive] representations of Arabs and Muslims have helped form a new kind of racism, one that projects antiracism and multiculturalism on the surface but simultaneously produces the logics and affects necessary to legitimize racist policies and practices. It is no longer the case that the other is explicitly demonized to justify war or injustice. Now the other is portrayed sympathetically in order to project the United States as an enlightened country that has entered a postrace era. (5) These studies are not contradictory. Rather, they suggest that the complicated portrayal of Muslims in the media (broadly speaking) has created a discourse surrounding Muslims that either confirms a fear-based narrative about “radical Islam” or a form of Orientalism which places U.S. culture in opposition to a “savage Islamic state.” Thus, what we have are two mainstream portrayals: one which conforms to U.S. cultural desires and the other which conforms to U.S. cultural fears. This fear narrative has been recently bolstered by the graphic and gruesome violence of ISIS, which has, in one account, provided fuel for the anti-Islamic fire which holds “Islam” as a threat (distinctions generally absent). I can’t say for certain if these images are deliberately curated to produce this effect, though it is unlikely that it is all accidental or subconscious. Regardless, I hope it illustrates the point I’m trying to make here: namely, that language (and, by extension, the images attached to it) has such a profound affect on our culture that to ignore it, especially when it produces an ill effect, reinforces a bigoted position. Ignorance and “doing nothing,” in other words, makes us unintentionally complicit in these discourses. The same could be said of the term “feminism.” Polls suggest that most Americans do not identify as feminists, with some variation between the genders. But when given a textbook definition of feminism (that it stands for the political, social, and economic equality of the sexes), as respondents were provided in this YouGov poll, the results swing drastically in the other direction. Sadly, those numbers are still disgustingly low when you consider the clear moral question implied in that textbook definition, but the poll also suggests that Americans are horribly ill-informed about feminism at its most basic. A lot of study has been done to determine why “feminism” has become less appreciated (and even actively disliked) in our contemporary culture. In “The Framing of Feminists and Feminism in News and Public Affairs Programs in U.S. Electronic Media” (2002; Journal of Communication, Vol 52, Issue 1), Rebecca Ann Lind and Colleen Salo conclude from an analysis of 35,000 hours of network broadcasts that “feminists are demonized more often in the media than [women],” but also that feminists are less likely than women to be trivialized by for physical characteristics than general women (219)(this came as a surprise to Lind and Salo). What becomes apparent in the study is not that feminists are necessarily treated worse than everyday women, but rather that they are discussed far less frequently than their non-identitarian counterparts (or, rather, those who are not identified as feminists in a given broadcast). As they note in the conclusion, feminists “are indeed absent from the news and public affairs programs analyzed for this study” (224). In effect, demonization and absence become cultural mechanisms in a narrative which, as Lind and Salo demonstrate in their linguistic
Movie Review: The Maze Runner (2014)
I didn’t really have high hopes for The Maze Runner (2014). Sure, I looked forward to seeing it on the off chance that it would be a lot of fun, but I didn’t expect it to be a particularly “good” movie. And it’s not, but neither is it “bad.” The Maze Runner is just another entry in a long line of YA dystopia adaptations, one which never seems to escape the confines of a cinematic formula. At its most basic, The Maze Runner can be summed up as follows: Thomas wakes up in a mysterious elevator cage without any memory of who or where he is, only to be thrust into the company of a ragtag group of boys who have learned to survive in the Glade, which rests at the center of a massive, murderous maze. But Thomas isn’t as willing to accept the status quo as the rest. Desperate to understand why they are in the Maze and who designed it, Thomas tries to piece together his fragmented memories and find a way out of the Maze. Doing so, however, may threaten the entire community… The premise of the film is fairly standard YA dystopia stuff, although what apparently separates Thomas from the rest of the boys is his curiosity, which sounds less like a magic skill than some kind of behavioral conditioning that the film barely acknowledges. Fans of the books have been raving about this film, as to be expected, which might explain why it has earned nearly $200mil worldwide as of Oct. 5th, 2014. But I’m not convinced that The Maze Runner will have a lasting impact. Clearly, I’m less enthusiastic about this movie than fans of the book. First, the film ends on a massive cliffhanger that is only barely foreshadowed in the handful of clues offered to us throughout the story. Though I generally loathe cliffhangers, I did at least expect this one because I had read the novel. However, what the film doesn’t do is provide a cogent motion from “we know absolutely nothing about what is going on, except some vague speculation” to “oh, now we have the whole story because [spoilers].” The ending is so abrupt that it shatters any semblance of logic the audience had pieced together throughout the rest of the film, leaving a kind of cold, detached sensation that I’m not convinced was intentional — and if it was, not in the way I mean. There are likewise numerous gaps in the film’s logic, such as why the stingers on the Grievers (the monsters of the maze) have the effect they do or what the Maze has to do with what has happened in the real world (I still don’t understand how that part works). Second, the film’s pacing is either stilted or simply “off.” In one important scene, Thomas is attacked by a Runner (folks who map the maze in order to find a way out) who has been stung, but this scene comes out of nowhere without any real buildup, and it ends in a remarkably anticlimactic way. There are likewise moments in the film which arise in such a hackneyed fashion that I could see the “character development time” coding on the figurative wrapping paper. These types of scenes jump back and forth in a way that limits the buildup to the climax; for me, this meant that those final moments lacked the impact that they needed to escape the bonds of the cliffhanger. I almost want to blame this on the script, but I think there is a deeper problem here. That problem might be that The Maze Runner is utterly forgettable. The direction, while serviceable, falls short of delivering something that would separate this film from its contemporaries. There is tension here, but it is lackluster, simple. Take this scene, for example: This is the first time we hear the sound of the Maze or witness the doors closing, and it is clear that what we’re supposed to feel is not dissimilar to what Thomas’ face conveys: fear and confusion. But what the scene evoked for me was less tension, fear, or confusion, but rather the activity of producing those feelings. I should feel chilled by that howling wind or the sudden realization that something weird is going on. A shift of sound or a manipulation of perspective shots could do the trick, but what this clip does — and what much of The Maze Runner does — is give me the feeling of a feeling, but rarely the feeling itself. Simulacrum, if you will. This became apparent to me upon rewatching Gareth Edwards’ Godzilla (2014). Though an imperfect film, there’s a clear sense in Godzilla that Edwards understood the scale of a world at the mercy of giant monsters. Thus, we end up with scenes like this: The above clip is the first time we see Godzilla “in full,” though he remains too larger for the film’s frame. The entire scene is built on tension, moving from the almost ant-like motion of humanity and its devices to the slow, deliberate crush of Godzilla’s foot, which severs the massive wall of sound, as if suggesting that everything has simply stopped. And then the roar. That roar. The buildup to it is gorgeous, with the discordant choir building to crescendo. It’s beauty incarnate. To be fair to The Maze Runner, perhaps I should point to a genre-related example: The Hunger Games (2012). In doing so, however, I hope it will become apparent what I mean when I suggest that The Maze Runner manages to be serviceable, but never seems to use the various regions of the filmic space to convey the feelings it intends the audience to receive, just as its characters, as I’ll discuss later, so often lack those same emotions (even Thomas seems less scared than utterly confused in the clip provided above). Take the Cornucopia sequence from The Hunger Games as an example: As in the Godzilla clip, this sequence uses sound