Shakespeare Roleplaying (or, the Ridiculous Things Adam Callaway and I Do on Google+)
This is what happens when Adam Callaway and I are bored and talking to one another on Google+. We turn into Shakespearean wannabes! Enjoy: Me: I am made of air. Adam: More like water. Me: Nay, careful knave, for I am beseeched by sun bursts in this blessed hour of whitefall. Have at thee! Adam: Let’s do this. Me: In whose blessed light hath thee been scorned, knave? By what weighted fringe hat thy ears been boxed in pheasant rank! Wouldest thou fell the beast who birthed thee if thee could see thine eyes turn life to minstrels? Adam: Ahhh…my jest! By the final gray rays of Urth’s dying sun do I curse thee. Me: Curse! Curse, say thee? What breath breathed in blank halls giveth thou such petty gift? Forsake thy oath for squabbles of pilfered magic, sir? Adam: Pilfered?! Surely you jest. These arcane tongues are hard earned in the deepest catacombs of Baldric caverns, where the great gray eye of Sol cannot peer. It is there that magics breed in silence. It is there that I harvest them. Me: Pilfered, most dearly, for in thy trek to those dank caverns you tender the trips of your fallen gardens. Haste thee to rend souls to flour for Urth, for thy cultish fancies. Haste thee to scoop matter from cantankerous old fool whose minds are but trifles before Urth. Nay, you are no sorcery, Mandrick. Thou art the whistler of demons, whose sad songs make plight in the halls of emperors. Adam: Aye. I do whistle for demons. And the demons come for me. I draw them into my breath, nurture them in my lungs with sweet, longing words of innocence lost and promised revenge, release them with a poisonous flick of my many forked tongue. They flee into the world, the world of this cinder Urth, so long removed from glorious golden light, to rend holes in the flesh of our world, sink there teeth into the severed ganglion of humanity’s last bastionic hero, and drink. Drink deeply my demon dogs.
The Fan: Discussing a Definition (in Dialogue w/ Jonathan McCalmont & Justin Landon)
I’ve been inspired, you might say, to talk about something I’ve had the itch to talk about since I started reading the Hugo Awards voting packet. I blame Justin Landon and Jonathan McCalmont for daring to talk about stuff, especially since they have a skill for ruffling feathers (with love, of course). Over at Staffer’s Book Review, Landon criticizes the SF/F convention circuit for, as he puts it, privileging the voices of those without credibility; though Jonathan McCalmont appears to agree on the issue of quality, his post at Ruthless Culture takes a somewhat different track, arguing in the end that the problem with fandom is its insularity: On the other hand, I feel that traditional fandom has become so attached to its own history and institutions that it would rather see those institutions die than allow them to change in a way that would encourage younger people to join them…I think that genre culture should start reclaiming the word ‘fan’ and use it to denote not some inferior species of genre-lover but someone who actively participates in making genre culture a more interesting and vibrant place despite having no professional skin in the game. Fans are not passive consumers… they are the people who keep the conversation going. First, I recommend reading their posts in full. I’ve, perhaps inaccurately, summarized their points rather briefly, and I’m certain Mr. Landon will despise me forever for having failed to quote from his article (sorry, Justine!). Second, I see my own view of fandom falling somewhere within McCalmont’s; my criticisms of what qualifies as fan culture have always been informed by my own perceived contribution to the field in the capacity of a non-professional. But my contributions are not explicitly non-professional, and it is here that I think I diverge from most definitions of fan culture. One of the things that bothered me about the special Blade Runner edition of Journey Planet (included in the Hugo Awards voting packet) was the editorial perception of fandom: “However I never wanted this issue of Journey Planet to be another crop of academic articles about Blade Runner. JP is a fanzine, after all, and I wanted to gather articles that give voice to the less academic side to the film’s wide fanbase” (5). Though the latter half of the quote appears to provide a reasonable motive — we wanted to explore the non-academic side of things — the emphasis on fanzine implies that there is something distinctive between the two categories: fan and academic. I am all of the following: a published academic in the genre field, a fan, an aspiring/publisher writer, and a geek. These are not mutually exclusive categories. The problem with assuming that they are is the same problem with trying to categorize genre fiction in general: the distinctions do not exist in any stable form. It is, after all, entirely possible to write academic articles as a fan, with the perspective of a fan in mind, primarily because an academic does not automatically cease to be a fan by engaging in academic discourse, nor does his or her contribution fall outside of the domain of the fan simply because their contributions are related to their possible profession.* These seem like distinctions made by people who have an agenda of their own, or who derive some form of use value from maintaining a strict separation, as if keeping academia out of fan production would protect the latter from the former. Whether Justin Landon and Jonathan McCalmont realize it, their previous posts about fanzines and/or the Hugo Awards have contributed to this very discussion. Yet the term “academic” has its own fuzzy internal distinctions. Some academics are actually professionals, engaging with their chosen field in an explicitly professional manner (i.e., they make a living doing it); others are perhaps professionals in trade, but their contributions are informed by their love for a particular thing; and still others may simply find that the culture of academia, particularly in genre fiction, offers its own kind of fan community. I see myself as a combination of these. Though I expect to pursue a career in academia, my contributions have always been informed by my love of genre. I would not have become an English major and pursued science fiction if I had not already developed an interest in the subfield. There is also the fact that academia is an inherently curious discipline, though it certainly has its own problems of insularity. To illustrate what I’ve said thus far, I turn to the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts (commonly known as ICFA). Though the vast majority of the content at every ICFA could be called “academic panels,” few who attend the conference would say it exhibits the stereotypical functions of academia: stuffy, fusty scholars who drone on for 20 minutes about yadda yadda this and yadda yadda that. In the two years that I have attended the conference, the atmosphere has always been vibrant. Fans (in the traditional sense), academics (who are often just fans who like to think endlessly about the meanings within literary work), and professionals (authors, critics, and so on who, well, are actually published or otherwise notable) all attend this conference. As I’ve said before, however, these distinctions are far from absolute, so the types of people who attend are often mergers of supposedly rigid categories: professional writers present papers; traditional fans head panels about their favorite authors; critics and authors discuss their own work or the work of others; and so on and so forth. You might say ICFA is a little incestuous… I’ve attended and presented at the conference for the last two years (and the Eaton Conference in California the year prior). There’s a reason why I’ll keep returning: this is one of the few conventions where I actually feel at home as a fan. The discourse of the convention is my discourse. I can rant aimlessly about my love of Battlestar Galactica just as I can
Month of Joy: “Mike’s Favorite Comics” by Mike Underwood @mikerunderwood
I have many favorite comics, like I have many favorite novels, and so on. But the great thing about loving lots of stuff is that it’s much harder to run out of things to talk about. So here are a few of my favorite comics/runs from across my reading history, and a little about my relationship to each. The Adventures of Cyclops and Phoenix (Scott Lobdell and Gene Ha) This is the oldest of the entries on this list, but one that stood out in my mind. I’ve always been a Cyclops fan, probably largely because I spent a lot of my youth being a Good Kid ™. I followed the rules, wasn’t a rebel, and so on. Characters like Wolverine or Jubilee didn’t really resonate with me. But Cyclops, the long-suffering earnest leader of the X-Men, he stuck with me. And in this mini-series, where Cyclops and Jean get catapulted into the future to raise Scott’s son, Nate (who later becomes Cable), I think the thing that really stuck with me was seeing a functional couple having adventures together, as partners. I’m also endlessly interested by dystopian settings, and the challenges of growing up in harsh circumstances. Like in many things, my genre education was fairly non-standard, and The Adventures of Cyclops and Phoenix was part of it – teaching me about dystopias before I’d even heard of the term, let alone read foundational texts like Brave New World, 1984, or Fahrenheit 451. Planetary (Warren Ellis and John Cassaday) In the parallel world where I’m a recently-minted PhD, one of the classes I’d offer is “The Planetary Guide to 20th Century Pop Culture Genres.” The class would use the comic series Planetary as an interpretive lens for examining 20th century pop/pulp genres (pulp, western, supers, golden age sci-fi, super-spy, Hong Kong action, etc.). Because for me, that’s what this series is – a way of re-interpreting a wide swath of 20th C. pop culture. The series itself ran from 1999 to 2009, and I followed the series month-to-month almost that entire run. The central premise of Planetary is that the 20th Century pop culture genres – pulp, superheroes, atomic horror, kaiju, etc., are all real. And the job of the protagonists, members of Planetary, are “Archaeologists of the Impossible,” discovering the secret history of the 20th century and fighting to keep the world strange and wonderful. The full story is much larger and more magnificent, taking a knowing, deeply intertextual trip through 20th Century pop culture. Warren Ellis is one of my all-time favorite comics writers, and his partnership with John Cassaday on this series is simply incredible. I highly recommend this series to any pop culture fan, especially if you are fond of re-interpretations of cultural history like Red Son, Astro City, or Soon I Will Be Invincible. Y: The Last Man (Brian K. Vaughn and Pia Guerra) One of the best “change one thing” science fiction comics that I’ve ever read, I also love that Y: The Last Man had a complete 10-volume arc, then ended. The ending works, the character arcs are rich and fulfilling, and then it’s done. One of the criticisms of comics as a medium that I hear and acknowledge most keenly is the fact that its serial nature can make it very impenetrable for a new reader. Where do you start? Will this series ever end? And so on. Well, Y: The Last Man has been complete for five years now, and still stands out in my memory as one of the best whole comic book stories ever told. Yorick Brown, the titular last man, is a loser. He’s an amateur magician without much life direction, who is on the phone about to propose to his girlfriend (who is in Australia) when the phone goes dead. The phone goes dead because at that moment, across the world, every other male mammal in the world is dying grotesque death. Except for Yorick’s pet capuchin monkey. The story that follows spans across the world, and, by necessity, is full of amazing, complex, dynamic female characters, who largely drive the story. If you or someone you know is put off with the (abysmal) way that women are depicted or treated in comics, this series is a fine contrast to that trend. Wonder Woman: The Hiketeia (Greg Rucka and J.G. Jones) Wonder Woman is my favorite mis-used character in DC comics. She’s the least popular member of DC’s Trinity (Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman), despite the fact that I think she’s an incredibly interesting character. The Hiketeia is one of my examples to people of how awesome Wonder Woman can be when handled well. The Hiketeia was the first time writer Greg Rucka worked with Wonder Woman, and his success with the story is a likely contributing factor to him landing the role as the series’ regular writer for an extended (and very well-received run). In The Hiketeia, Wonder Woman is honor-bound to protect a young woman who is executing a Greek ritual of vengeance known as the Hiketeia. This puts her in direct opposition with Batman, who is hunting the girl as a criminal and murderer. The Hiketeia shows the entire conflict from Diana’s perspective, highlights her conflict between honoring tradition and protecting life. It also features a fantastic fight between her and Batman, where she wipes the floor with the Dark Knight, because, well, she can go toe-to-toe with Superman, and WW doesn’t have a Kryptonite-analogue for Batman to use against her. But ultimately, it is the characterization of Wonder Woman as thoughtful, determined, and compassionate that makes this story a winner in my book. It’s one of the best Wonder Woman stories I’ve ever read, and is marvelously stand-alone, which makes it a good book to use when saying “No, really, Wonder Woman is awesome. Read this.” Marvels (Kurt Busiek, Alex Ross, Marcus McLaurin) Being a lifelong comics and supers fan, I am a total sucker for stories that let me re-examine
Month of Joy: “Borderlands, the Game” by Paul Weimer (A Sorta Review)
Sometimes, blowing off steam is exactly what you need after a hard day in the mundane job. Sometimes you want to wander in an alien landscape, with not much more of an agenda than to kill mutant creatures, cannibals and other assorted beasties. Sometimes, you want enter the world of Borderlands. Borderlands was an action role-playing first-person shooter video game developed by Gearbox Software in 2009. Set on the planet Pandora [Which has nothing to do with the movie Avatar], a down-at-the-heels dry and desiccated planet, the plot revolves around how the main character, a soldier of fortune, is looking for a legendary Vault of alien artifacts that many have looked for, and died for, in vain. Will you be any different? You, however, are special. In Borderlands, you get to play one of four characters, each with special abilities and powers that give you an edge in the dog-eat-dog word of Pandora. From Brick, a tank of a character who can go berzerk and take on enemies with his fists, to Lilith, who can phase out of existence, to the solid soldier Roland and the sniper/hunter Mordecai, the gameplay at base may be the same for each character, but their individual powers and styles make for four different game experiences. And what an experience. The physical puzzles, such as they are in the game, are pretty simple. You aren’t playing this game to recapture the experience of Myst, you are playing to shoot and kill things, and occasionally press a button needed to finish a quest. The game uses a quest-for-hire system to help the character get experience and money to buy the equipment needed to continue the main plot. The treasures are all weapons, health aids, shields and other geegaws that help your character kill things more easily, or survive in combat, or aid your powers. Its extremely stripped down and basic. The stylized graphics look comic book like and are striking for pushing that aesthetic and making it work. And even though this is a shoot-em-up, there are moments of character humor, too, especially with the claptrap robots. This is the game I play when I want to blow off steam, and not think about things too much. I don’t have to think too hard. And shooting a shotgun into the face of a raving little midget running at you with an axe is surprisingly satisfying. And killing a particularly difficult monster gives me a real high. I haven’t picked it up yet, but there is a sequel with four new characters and a new plot: Borderlands 2. Ain’t no rest for the wicked, indeed. ——————————————————— Not really a Prince of Amber, but rather an ex-pat New Yorker that has found himself living in Minnesota for the last 9 years, Paul “PrinceJvstin” Weimer has been reading SF and Fantasy for longer than Shaun has been alive. In addition to pitching in at Skiffy and Fanty, he can be found at his own blog, Blog Jvstin StyleSF Signal, the Functional Nerds, Twitter, Livejournal and many other places on the Internet.
Top 10 Posts for July 2013
Finally! A month without seas of old stuff. Awesome job, folks! Here’s the list: 10. The Politicization of the SFWA? (A Mini-response to Michael Z. Williamson) 9. Month of Joy: “The Joy of City Stomping” by David Annandale 8. Movie Review: The Wolverine (2013) 7. Link of the Week: Speculative Friction (the website is still up, actually, though nothing new has been posted in a while…) 6. The Vigilante in American Mythology (Brief Thoughts) #monthofjoy 5. Top 10 Cats in Science Fiction and Fantasy 4. Week of Joy (Day Seven): “The Genre Books That Influenced & Inspired Me to Read & Write” by Stina Leicht 3. Orson Scott Card is a Yard Shitter (and a note on Redeemability) 2. Top 10 Overused Fantasy Cliches 1. 8 SF/F Writers Who Changes My Life (#WeekofJoy)
Month of Joy: “Growing Up w/ Genre and Singaporean SF/F” by Joyce Chng — @jolantru
I grew up with genre. No, seriously, I did. It all began with a book of children’s stories complete with shape-shifting and transformation. The girl turned into a fluffy plush-tailed cat… and I was hooked. And it just kept on coming: Star Blazers (Battleship Yamato), Battle of the Planets (or G-Force), Robotech (Macross – Southern Cross – Mospeada), Star Trek and the list continued. I fell in love with science fiction and it opened a whole world of possibilities for a lonely little girl who had nobody but herself to amuse herself. That’s right: I am an only child. Then as my reading hunger grew, I feasted on epic fantasy and Dungeons & Dragons. Mind you, I was the only girl in the group of boys and I played a cleric. I explored Krynn when I bought the Dragonlance books and went on further to read Frank Herbert’s Dune, Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonriders of Pern series and so on. I thought I was the only girl reading science fiction and fantasy. I felt alone and lonely. Where in the world were the rest of my peers? Singapore seemed so dull, so empty – and I went on searching for that elusive geek girl (or nerd girl). For a while, I did find her, a good friend of mine who read the Pern series. Around this time, I had started writing. Short stories. Fan fiction (even though I hadn’t heard of this term until the Internet came about). The stories found their way in school magazines and I had people who told me I wrote well. I started topping the standard for English composition. Yet, I still felt… alone. Now, thinking back, I feel as if things are at least changing. There is a community of SFF writers here in Singapore. Trust me – they are elusive, like unicorns and phoenixes. But imagine my relief when I found them. Mind you, it felt like trawling the sea for that single needle. At the moment, Singapore SFF is slowly taking off as people find each other and their own voices. The Singapore SFF writer seems to be a quiet breed… but we are around. When I returned from Australia after seven years of undergraduate and postgraduate study, I thought I was the only SFF writer around. That was how isolated I’d felt. Then, I found out about the Happy Smiley Writers’ Group, got involved in Nanowrimo and suddenly, they are there! Singapore SFF writers. And illustrators. And creators. And readers. This book came out of the Happy Smiley Writers’ Group! Singapore SFF started to coalesce a few years ago. Still nascent, still growing – but becoming stronger. My only hope is that it grows bigger and more prominent, that SFF writing (heck, writing) isn’t looked down upon or mocked at. Asian mentality sees writing as a job that doesn’t pay at all and I get those pointed questions from my folks who think that I am still going through a phase (and I am in my late thirties, for crying out loud). As I sit before my laptop, staring out into the nightscape, I wonder how Singapore SFF would look like in five years’ time. And then, the deeper and harder questions: Will I continue writing? Will I end up throwing in the towel and walking away? These questions hover in my mind. But at present, I am happy at what I am doing: writing. Be it wolves who walk on two legs, phoenixes who hide in human form or a human A.I who pilots a warship, I will continue to create new worlds. ————————————————— Author’s note: This post is a tribute to Han May, whose book Star Sapphire captured my attention a long time ago. ————————————————— Joyce Chng lives in Singaporean and is proud to be Singaporean. Her fiction has appeared in Crossed Genres, M-BRANE SF and the Apex Book of World SF II. She also writes urban fantasy under J. Damask. Her writerly blog exists at A Wolf’s Tale. Editor’s Note: You can check out my mini interview with Ms. Chng for the Week of Joy feature here.