The PKD Files: The Little god
Many of you are aware that during the 2007-08 academic school year I took an independent study course on Philip K. Dick. I read three of his novels, a whole bunch of his short stories, and a good bit of non-fiction and biographical material. One of those novels was Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Most of you know this novel as the basis for Blade Runner, and I would recommend you get into the novel if you haven’t already, because it is certainly a far different experience–more deeply rooted in psychological issues. Reading this novel for the second time in an academic setting has brought something to my attention I find rather curious. Page 171 of the Del Rey/Ballantine 1996 edition of the book has a line that says: “He entered the elevator and together they moved nearer to god.” The sentence itself is not necessarily too impressive. It’s being metaphorical about the action of going upwards–and you could certainly interpret it on a deeper level (such as the fact that the elevator leads Deckard to the roof, which is a location where much of Deckard’s problems arise–Polokov and the goat incident)–but there’s something wrong with it. God is spelled with a lower-cased G. I am well aware that this could just be a typo, except that this spelling shows up in more than just this location and this book. Surely the copy editors didn’t make the same mistake over and over? With this in mind I thought it would be interesting to try to unpack this spelling. Since we’re not talking about “a god” or “the gods” it is clear that Dick is trying to make some sort of allusion to the Christian God. But making it lower-cased does something to the sentence that is really difficult to describe. What exactly could he mean by “god” rather than “God”? Why would Dick leave it lower-cased? Those who may be familiar with Philip Kindred Dick are probably well aware that he was a deeply spiritual person. I would say spiritual because it is really difficult to pin him down to a specific religion. Dick was specifically interested in the spiritual and psychological aspects of the mind. Taking this into account I have to wonder why he chose to leave God lower-cased. Perhaps it was to lessen the effect of what God stands for. Or, perhaps what Dick is doing is attempting to portray in the actual writing a sense of the spiritual loss or reassignment of a dying Earth. This is a future dystopic Earth that has replaced Christianity with Mercerism, a religion with no god or gods, but with the shared experience of a brutal journey–Mercer’s. This shared experience, coupled with the technological impact of the mood organ, is a crippled version of the Christian drive to embody Jesus’s sacrifices, because the success of the experience does not constitute any sort of awakening or rise to a higher plane, even psychologically. When Deckard actually experiences Mercer’s journey, there is no drastic change in his person. In fact, change seems to be dominated by the androids, more than anything else (and I’ll probably talk about this subject later). The problem in asking what the purpose of “god” is in Dick’s text is that we cannot know what he was thinking while writing it–not fully, anyway. Our glimpses into his mind are just that: glimpses. Trying to understand completely what he meant by devaluing the traditional capitalization of God leaves us with little to work with. But perhaps I’ve touched on it here. Maybe the use of “god” is, in fact, connected to the hopelessness of Earth, as if to say that God has abandoned the planet and its remaining people. But again, I’m not sure. I’m going to toss this out to all of you. What do you all think it could mean? Have you seen this used before and in which context? Or am I reading too much into this and it is nothing more than a typo that pops up all over his work?
Silly Reader Questions: Super Powers, Magic, Bathrooms, and Poetry
This week we have a few more silly reader questions. We’ll go in reverse order this time around and start with GothixHalo: Why in books do they never have them going to the bathroom? I don’t know if anyone is aware, but it is actually illegal to write about going to the bathroom in books. Yup. Sometimes it happens, but if you do it you’re likely to be sued. You see, back in 3100 B.C. a guy named Nunchuck Dungfoot (anglicized from the original language to make it easier to remember) invented the first toilet and he declared that the whole world must acknowledge his invention lest he curse mankind to the fiery bowels of hell. Unfortunately, that has carried on into the modern world as an unofficial ban on discussing the use of bathrooms in literature. Discussing such things will result in the Trans-Orkneyan Liberation Front showing up at your house to serve you with papers. I know, it sounds insane, but that’s what happened to that guy who supposedly “lied” in his non-fiction book on Oprah’s show. Remember that? It was a cover for his writing about a bathroom. He’s since disappeared, which tells me that he was probably murdered by the Trans-Orkneyan Mafia. Yes, I’m making all this up. I have no idea why nobody writes bathroom scenes in their fiction. They just don’t. GothixHalo also asks: Why do people not like poetry, but love songs, which are basically music set to poetry? Because people are too stupid to realize that they’re basically the same thing. There’s really no difference between poetry and song lyrics, except that one is traditionally sung, while the other is not–although, historically this isn’t true. That’s basically it. For the record: song lyrics are poetry, and if you hate poetry, then you also hate song lyrics. This is a strange conflict that everyone needs to acknowledge. Lastly, Mulluane sends this question: Super power or magical power? I don’t quite understand what differentiates these two things. Can’t a magical power also be a super power? And do I have to choose one or the other? Let’s be fair, with such a vague question you can’t honestly expect me to choose one over the other. I’m taking both. I want super powers and magical powers. Why? Because in the event that someone figures out a way to neutralize my super powers, I’ll still have a fallback with which I can whoop some major superhero ass. Oh, what, you took my super ability to shoot energy beams out of my eyes? Yeah, well, I put a curse on you, fool! May you forever listen to the Sound of Music in your head, forever and ever and ever and ever. Yeah, it’s like that. But maybe I shouldn’t be allowed to have any abilities. I think I might abuse them. I can imagine myself getting revenge on people who bother me, and that’s not how super heroes are supposed to act. ————————— If you have a question, whether silly or serious, about science fiction, fantasy, writing, or, well, whatever, feel free to leave it in the comments, email it to me at arconna[at]yahoo[dot]com, or tweet it to @shaunduke. If you liked this post, feel free to stumble it, digg it, tweet it, or whatever. Thanks!
How Independent Bookstores Can Survive
The other day Mulluane pointed me to an interesting discussion on independent bookstores and blogs and one of the quotes stood out to me as a particularly absurd statement: Very small stores may not have the time or the resources to devote to maintaining a blog. Small to mid-size stores may not be able to dedicate someone to consistently write a blog (and you must be consistent). Some bookstore owners or managers may not feel they have the technical expertise or Internet savvy to create a blog. Some stores question the effectiveness of a blog in generating sales. I’ve heard all the excuses. Small stores don’t have the time or resources to devote to a blog? Perhaps this explains why so many independent bookstores are suffering right now and have been suffering for a while: they simply haven’t converted. I would argue that the only hope for independent bookstores to survive is to establish web presences, to enlist the avid support of cause-oriented web-goers, because there will be a point when almost all purchases, particularly of books, will be made online, rather than in the store, and no store can hope to survive if it cannot make itself available online. But that’s not what this post is about. This is about blogging on a busy schedule and a tight budget (and it is advice that is useful to anyone, not just bookstores). I think the above quote really makes it clear what kind of people tend to run independent bookstores: not particularly web-savvy ones. Blogging is essentially free, and probably always will be so long as places like Blogger and WordPress continue to offer their services. Obviously bookstores want to host their own websites, which does cost money, but a blog is free to start and relatively easy to transfer over to a personal domain, which I’m not going to talk about here. Basically, you don’t have to pay anything to start a blog and maintain it. You can use a free service, get a free template that suits you, and blog like nobody’s business. But bookstores also have resources: they have supporters, friends, etc. There’s no reason why an independent bookstore cannot create a small following of Internet friends who would be happy to provide their words free of charge to support the store. This is why we have websites dedicated to supporting independent bookstores and why the Internet is flooded with people who buy indie (there’s sort of a movement both online and otherwise that puts the indie store at the top, and I suspect this is an extension of the hippie movements). This all depends on the store and the people who run it. Independent bookstores cannot hope to survive the rapidly technologizing industry without adopting within themselves the complicated mechanisms that make up the Internet. They have to adopt new practices including social networking on places like Twitter and Facebook, creating websites that incorporate all aspects of bookselling and promotion (from author events to buying books online), and reaching out to supporters. This isn’t to say that doing these things will guarantee the survival of indie stores. I suspect that bookstores are a dying breed; we’ll likely reach a point where only a handful of stores will exist, whether chains or otherwise. When even massive stores like Powell’s are feeling the burn (a store that has, in my opinion, surpassed any other bookstore in existence by not only having the widest possible selection–which, understandable, not all stores can have–but also staff who have actual experience in the various genres/sections of the store itself) it is perhaps a bad omen for bookselling in physical form in general. But the death of the independent bookstore need not be because of negligence. Let it be because of forces outside of their control (shifting buying habits, change in markets, the economy). There is no reason why independent bookstores cannot devote some time to their own promotion online, and it is, in my opinion, and essential part of running a bookstore. If you don’t have time to do even something as simple as running a blog, then don’t be surprised when your store dies because nobody knows about it.
Alternate History: Science Fiction or Something Else?
Tor.com’s recent post got me thinking about the problem that is alternate history. As highlighted by Tor, the opinions on alternate history seem to be relatively split down the middle: some believe it is science fiction and others do not, except in certain scenarios. I think I’ve voiced my opinions on this before, but never in a post dedicated to the topic. I have issues with considering alternate history as science fiction. I probably fit into that second camp that considers the genre largely something else, except in those occasions when someone from a future point is actively participating in the altering of history (Back to the Future, for example). The problem seems to be one of definition. I consider science fiction to largely be future oriented, in some capacity, with a heavy focus on some aspect of scientific discourse, whether accurate or otherwise. Thus, works like 1984 and Star Wars can be held within the science fiction genre (where they are then split into different subgenres for the purposes of differentiation). Science fiction, for me, must always consider the impacts of the present (or even the past) on a future point, even if that future point is tomorrow, rather than one hundred years from now. With that in mind, how can one possibly fit alternate history into the science fiction genre? It’s not about the future, it does not at all reflect upon the present, and it is not, as a genre, concerned with scientific subjects (from sociology to politics to physics)–though such subjects may play a part in certain tales. Alternate history tends to ask “What if this did or didn’t happen?” while science fiction tends to ask “What if this happened?” There is a disconnect there between what I consider to be the under-riding question. Science fiction never asks us to think about what didn’t happen; it is an active, progress-based genre (whether for good or for bad). But what do we do with alternate history if we can’t place it in science fiction? Wouldn’t it be fare to give it its own category? The generally accepted genre classification takes speculative fiction as the main genre, with science fiction and fantasy underneath as subcategories–sometimes horror gets put in there too. Why must we stick everything within those two subcategories? It seems somewhat absurd that everyone must either be fantasy or science fiction, and not something else–except where legitimate crossover is concerned, such as a science fiction horror, or a science fantasy, etc. Couldn’t we take the easy road and introduce a category specific to alternate history? As a genre, alternate history is neither science fiction, nor fantasy, but it is speculative. Perhaps that’s the best thing to do with it. What do you think? Do you consider alternate history as science fiction? Why or why not? Let me know in the comments!
To Shut Up or Not to Shut Up: Should Authors Respond to Reviews?
I think this whole discussion needs to be prefaced by an entirely different discussion on cause and effect. Nobody has the right to tell you that you are not allowed to do something. You can do anything you want in this world, but you must always face the consequences of your actions. If you murder someone you cannot expect that there will be no repercussions, particularly in a place like the United States where you will be prosecuted and either imprisoned or put to death if you are caught and found guilty of such a crime. The same can be said of how an author behaves. Yes, you can act any way you please, but you also have to acknowledge that your actions will create certain responses from your would-be readers. This is a reality that all authors must face, and it isn’t helped by the fact that already the process of getting and being published is like going through a meat grinder that never turns off–there will always be people who dislike your work and possibly even dislike you. With that in mind we can return to the original point of this discussion: should authors respond to reviews? If they want to, yes. The problem with author responses in the blogosphere isn’t so much that bloggers don’t want authors to respond, it is that some of us have had bad experiences with it and would rather you keep out of it if you’re unable to act in a manner that is becoming of an author (a great example of a horrible situation can be found here). Not all of us can be Harlan Ellison who, let’s be frank here, gets away with behavior that most people couldn’t get away with if their lives depended on it–a fact, I suspect, has something to do with a strange fascination people have with a man who is not at all afraid to say whatever the hell he wants. Authors should consider how they are going to respond to a review or a discussion of their work. Bloggers are not at all against the idea of an author coming in to get a better understanding of a particular point, and if your intention is to understand the criticism in order to improve your writing, there is no contention with that either. But if your intention is to argue with a blogger, that’s where the problems arise. Nobody wants to have to deal with an author who can’t accept that an individual’s opinion is their own. We don’t want to hear why we’re wrong in our review and why clearly we didn’t get what you were trying to do. All of that is irrelevant, because we all have unique reading experiences. As an author, you need to ask yourself a question: Is sacrificing your career worth it in order to argue with a reviewer over some point they made? And if your intention is not to argue, but to understand, a good way to go about this would to be preface your questions with that information. Bloggers are not going to universally pan you for trying to get a better understanding of the criticism lobbed at your work. In fact, they may even praise you for trying to be active in the reviewing community, particularly because that tells them that their opinions actually matter to you, that you give a crap what they think, and that you may, in fact, take much of what they have said to heart for your next work of fiction. But be conscious of the consequences of argumentation in the blogosphere, because what you do online can and does have an affect on you as a professional. You will be looked down upon if you act childishly, and for good reason. What do you all think about this? If you’ve written blog posts about it, let me know in the comments. P.S.: Some other instances can be found here and here.
Reader Question: What’s the difference between YA and Adult Fiction?
Mulluane indirectly asked me this question via Twitter by pointing me to this post on the subject (you can find Mulluane on Twitter here and me here). This is one of those oft-asked questions in the publishing world and, to be honest, I’m not sure why it’s such a difficult one to grasp. As with any genre, YA has exceptions and oddities that are not so easily defined, but the basic definition is almost always the same: YA is fiction marketed at young adults that typically features young adults as the primary characters. Beyond that, there really isn’t any clear difference between the two genres, except, perhaps, that YA has a tendency to contain more bizarre fiction series within its walls. The thing about YA is that it often gets misinterpreted as a genre that must appeal to a particularly young age. People make the assumption that a YA book shouldn’t deal with what they perceive to be adults topics such as sex, drugs, etc. But it doesn’t take a genius to realize that not only are teenagers and even middle school-aged kids talking about all these “adult” subjects today, they’ve been talking about them in previous generations too. This subject has been in the teenage sphere for decades, with traceable origins at least to the sixties, and likely even further back. It’s not like our teenagers are wholly innocent anymore; they are just as interested and concerned with “adult” subjects as adults are. So, it seems fitting that a genre that is meant to appeal to them would contain topics that they are already discussing and already trying to understand. And if they have to get their knowledge from somewhere, better a book than a parent who is unwilling to discuss these things–I believe that parents have largely got what they deserve in their kids today by not being active enough in their lives to even understand what the teen struggle is like now. That said, there is plenty of silliness in the genre, as characterized by many of the quirky fantasy series that permeate the shelves. That’s okay too. There’s no reason why a genre cannot have its silly moments. Obert Skye is to YA what Terry Pratchett is to Fantasy. But at the end of the day, YA isn’t about a particular subject so much as a particular marketing element; it is not a juncture between middle grade fiction and adult, nor is it a depository for pointless fictional drivel. It is a serious genre that deserves credibility just as science fiction or fantasy do, and the fact that it is still under appreciated for what it provides society is disturbing at best. And that’s that!—————- If you have a question you’d like to see answered, feel free to leave it as a comment or send it to arconna[at]yahoo[dot]com. The questions need not be serious ones; silly questions are welcome! If you like this post, consider stumbling it, digging it, or even just commenting. Thanks!