SF/F Commentary

SF/F Commentary

10 Years Ago Today: Chemo

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There are a lot of things I don’t remember about finding out I had cancer in 2002.  But I do remember the day I began treatments:  today.  That’s right.  Two days before Christmas, I had my first round of ABVD (adriamycin, bleomycin, vinblastine, and dacarbazine — a.k.a. four ways to poison yourself in order to get healthy).  One of these drugs (vinblastine), as it turns out, is a kind of orange-red, which runs through your system and turns your pee, well, orange.  The doctors like to tell you this beforehand, because usually orange or red pee means something has gone seriously wrong with your innards.  Ironically, peeing orange after a treatment of vinblastine still means something is going on in your innards, but in a kind of good way (good bad?  Grey.  We’ll go with that).  This was one of the few things I laughed about when I went through the chemo process.  After all, it is kind of hilarious, no? In any case, I had my first treatment on Dec. 23rd, 2002 and spent Christmas feeling somewhat like garbage.  I’m fortunate in that most of the immediate side effects attributed to ABVD were fairly mild.  There was no intense vomiting (though I’d get a little nauseous at times).  I did feel like I’d gone to a party the night before, drank enough alcohol to kill a horse, and then woke up the following morning feeling pretty much as you’d expect:  extremely exhausted with a side of craptacular. Beyond that, I don’t remember much.  I remember that the nurse who worked at the oncologist’s office was an incredibly nice lady with a lovely attitude and that my mom sat with me through most of the treatment (I owe a lot to my mom, if I’m being honest — she took the brunt of all the financial stress, scheduling, and so on while I tried to combat my disease; she’s a hero in my book and a testament to how important it is to have family (however you define it) during times like this).  And I remember feeling like crap while the drugs were funneling into my veins.  You literally feel them eating away at you, like those overnight effects of a nasty cold where you just know that you’re going to wake up feeling awful.  The only good thing about chemo, I guess, is that they give you good pain killers and a lot of excuses to sleep and sleep and sleep.  I slept a lot… Oh, and you can pretty much eat whatever you want, so long as you get the necessary nutrients.  Why?  Because chemo ruins your appetite and tends to eat away at your body mass.  Anything to keep your weight from crashing and your body from completely eating itself alive is generally OK.  I made a lot of fruit smoothies… So there you have it.  I’ll blog about how I was diagnosed in the future.  But since today is kind of a milestone — ten years, baby — I thought I’d blog about it.  Plus, I recently had my ten year “checkup,” in which my oncologist in Florida basically said “well, it ain’t back, so you’re good to go.”  I like such appointments! There’s much more to tell, for sure.  I’ll do my best to collect my memories. P.S.:  Earlier this year, I was inspired by Jay Lake to blog about my experiences with cancer.  Jay has shared many of his experiences on his blog and was kind enough to talk about how terminal cancer affects him as a writer on my podcast.  He’s an extraordinary human being.  I recommend you check out his books.

SF/F Commentary

Cloning Myself?

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Would you clone yourself if you have the opportunity to do so?  I sometimes think it would be strange to clone myself (the scifi kind of cloning, where clones are literal, full-grown copies).  What kind of strange conversations would we have?  Would we each develop differently over time so that the only resemblance between us was physical? Science fiction writers have asked these questions for decades.  Why?  I don’t know.  Maybe we’re secretly narcissists?  Or maybe there’s just something fascinating about the idea that humanity is duplicable.  After all, if science fiction is, as many suggest, a genre deeply concerned with the human condition, then cloning is merely a “new” avenue through which we can interrogate what it is that makes us human.  Cloning rests alongside intelligent robots, aliens, androids, and all manner of intelligent non-humans to remind us that whatever it is that makes us human and unique is hard to pinpoint.  If our minds and bodies can be duplicated, then what makes you “you” and me “me”? This is why I find narratives about cloning, androids, aliens, and so on compelling.  Dawn by Octavia Butler, for example, considers whether humanity still exists when its genetics have been tampered with by an alien race (even for its own good).  Butler’s narrative is rife with deep questions about human existence:  Is there something inherently wrong with humanity on a genetic level?  Do we cease to be human if we fix those genetic errors and mix ourselves with other species?  Does humanity deserve to exist if its genetics lead it toward self-destruction? Or there are books like Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick, Marseguro by Edward  Willett, or Tobias Buckell’s Xenowealth Saga.  Each interrogates the human condition in unique and vibrant ways, from questioning our compulsion towards enslavement and extermination (Dick) to the place of genetic modification in the human spectrum (Willett) to the integration of humans with machines and computers (Buckell).  Science fiction loves these sorts of questions.  It thrives on them, more so now than ever before — because we’re already asking ourselves these questions in real life.  If you clone a person or modify their genetics, are they still human?  Why or why not?  When we create artificial lifeforms with free will, do we have to rethink our legal framework?  If so, how do we change it?  If we’re not already asking ourselves these questions today, we will have to sooner or later.  Humanity will have to change as we “play God.” And so I have to ask myself what I’d think if I met a clone of myself.  Would I react with violence, as so many humans in SF narratives have done, or would I react with philosophical confusion and curiosity?  I don’t know.  What about you?

SF/F Commentary

Becoming Pretentious Over Time — Cue Pipes, Long Diatribes About Literature, and Writing

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Fact One:  Apparently button-up shirts, nice ties, nice sweaters, and nice slacks are my new thing.  They’re so much “my new thing” that I’m wearing them even though I have no intention of leaving the house (I’m currently sitting at a table on a houseboat that overlooks the Columbia). Hello!  I’m a houseboat on the Columbia.  You’ll have to excuseme for not having anything green growing.  It’s winter, whichtypically means that nature decides to hibernate…unless youlive in Florida, where nature is constantly trying to kill you… I see all this as my slow decline into pretentiousness.  Call it an evolutionary pathway for all PhD students.  The longer you stay in academia, the more likely you are to fall into its grasp, from which no human being can escape! And if I’m falling into the pretentious hole of wonders, where my days are spent contemplating my research or the literary merits of obscure small press novels (hey, they’re good, so shut up), then I might as well embrace it, right?  No?  Really?  Oh.  Good.  Glad that’s settled. All this is a really abstract way of explaining that things are changing around these parts.  I’ve finished with Fall Semester’s insane grading cycle and have begun this thing they call vacation.  At some point, I’m going to start writing fiction again, because I’ll have the time to actually think about stories and narrative and characters (90 hour work weeks make that somewhat difficult, to be honest). On top of that, I’m going to do some more reading (partly for interviews I’ve got lined up with some amazing folks and partly for my own enjoyment). And some where in all that, I’ll blog about more literature-related stuff (some SF/F, some not), more movies, more things that interest me (and, by extension, you).  Wish me luck or something. ——————————————————- P.S.:  If there must be a second fact, it is this — somewhere in all this strangeness is an elf with a missing sock; he wants it back and will kill for it.  Watch yourselves.

SF/F Commentary

Dear Christmas: My Favorite SF/F Re-Reads

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There’s still time to get to the shops and buy that special gift for your estranged husband or twice-removed cousin.  Okay, let’s face it.  You’re not buying gifts for them.  If you’ve popped onto this page, it’s for one of three reasons: You read this blog. You told me to write on this topic. You’ve got a weird scifi and fantasy geek child or friend and you have no idea what to get them. If you’re in the #3 category, then prepare yourself for this completely uneven list of books I enjoyed enough to read more than once!  Here goes: Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson I’m biased, because Hopkinson (and Buckell) was one of the authors I focused on in my Master’s Thesis.  It’s also a novel I’ve reviewed for SF Mistressworks and one I’ve taught at the college level.  It’s an enormously rich book, too.  Caribbean folklore + science fiction + twin worlds = simply stunning. Crystal Rain, Ragamuffin, and Sly Mongoose by Tobias S. Buckell All three are amazing.  Like Hopkinson, Buckell mixes in Caribbean references and characters, but drags them out into the wide world of Space Opera throughout the series (Crystal Rain is almost a Civil War-style steampunk novel, while Ragamuffin and Sly Mongoose are exciting Space Operas — the latter includes zombies and floating habitats in the atmosphere of a Venus-like planet).  I love reading them over and over (plus, The Apocalypse Ocean, book four, is also damned good). 1984 by George Orwell This is one of the few books I will read over and over and over again.  I used to read it once a year, but I haven’t done that for a while.  But if you’ve ever read the book, you’ll understand why:  it’s one of those books that benefits from re-reading because you’ll discover new stuff all the time.  And I mean that.  There are so many little details in this book.  Orwell was a genius! Zoo City by Lauren Beukes Folks will notice a trend on this post.  That trend goes something like this:  how many books written by people from other countries (originally or currently) can I stick on a single list?  Well, get over it.  Most of what I read these days are books by folks from elsewhere, in part because that’s what I study.  Go figure. Lauren Beukes is our resident South African writer.  And she’s a good one!  Zoo City remains one of my favorite books of all time.  It mixes animal familiars with amateur sleuthing and social commentary, which is A+ in my book. The Palm-wine Drinkard by Amos Tutuola It’s weird to Westerners and controversial to many African scholars.  No matter which side of the world you come from, though, I think this is one of those unique, fascinating pieces of literature.  Every time I read it, I’m amazed by the oddness, the rapid pace, the almost spoken-word style of storytelling, and the folklore.  I recommend it to anyone who loves weird stuff. City of Saints and Madmen by Jeff VanderMeer This remains, for me, one of the top three greatest New Weird books ever written (assuming, of course, that New Weird actually exists — I’m not convinced anymore, but it’s a catchy word that I find useful).  There’s no way to describe this book without ruining some of its most compelling parts, so I’ll just say this:  it has an appendices full of letters, documents, and other wonderful bits, all of which enhance the story. The Forever War by Joe Haldeman I suspect most of you are familiar with this one.  Good.  You should be.  It’s one of the greatest science fiction novels ever written (top ten for me).  If you haven’t read it, then all you need to know is this:  a thorough examination of social change and war in a far future, military space opera setting.  It’s amazing.  That is all… Perdido Street Station by China Mieville Another great New Weird novel.  Mieville is, I think, one of the most innovative writers in SF/F right now (alongside Jeff VanderMeer).  Perdido Street Station is no exception.  The way he constructs creatures, cultures, cityscapes, and so on is admirable.  I suggest everyone start with PSS, but even works like Embassytown or The City & the City contain some interesting concepts and ideas.  He’s one of the new greats (hopefully he’ll keep producing new and innovative work for years to come). Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut Vonnegut is another of those strange writers.  I’m still unsure if Slaughterhouse-Five is actually science fiction or some kind of PTSD novel.  It’s probably both at the same time.  Either way, it’s an amazing book.  There are compelling uses of “time travel,” social commentary, weird digs at science fiction, and much more. If you’ve never read it, you should. Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower nearly made me cry.  That’s not small feat, if I’m honest.  Usually, I only cry while reading books in which I already have emotional investments.  Butler’s work, however, is incredible.  Sower follows a young woman with a rare form of synaethesia that allows her to feel what others feel.  That might be cool in times of plenty, but this novel is set in a post-apocalyptic United States where pretty much everything has gone to complete crap and humanity is clinging desperately to its little pieces of civilization.  It’s a brilliant read. The House of the Stag by Kage Baker I love this book more than I love breathing.  Well, sort of.  I really love breathing too… The House of the Stag combines fairytales, epic fantasy, and awesome in one little package.  When I first read it years ago, I fell in love with it.  The way Baker plays with fairtale narratives to create something fresh and new (along with her unique way of using theater-related stuff in the narrative) is, well, fresh and new.  What more do you want me to say? One For Sorrow by Christopher Barzak Barzak is a

SF/F Commentary

Published: “In the Shadows of the Empire of Coal” in Stupefying Stories 1.11!

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Guess what?  My coalpunk short story, “In the Shadows of the Empire of Coal,” was recently published in Issue 1.11 of Bruce Bethke’s Stupefying Stories!  I’m super excited about it (duh) and how you’ll all snatch up a copy ($1.99 on Kindle or Nook — iTunes links pending still). If you really love me, you’ll buy a copy and write a review. Excuse me while I go squee in the corner!

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