I am now a contributor to Lightspeed Magazine. They bought my novella, Miller’s Wife, for one of their ebook reissues. Here is the cover of the issue:
I am, as you may imagine, very pleased. Support the magazine, get the stories.
Oh, and Miller’s Wife now has its third appearance. Originally, the story appeared in Black Gate Magazine. Currently it is also the lead story in my short story collection, Gravity Box and Other Spaces. Now this.
Enjoy.
Chris Christie has endorsed Donald Trump.
I’ve been looking for a point of entry into the campaign thus far and this seems as good a one as any. Like many, I’ve been watching in amazement as Donald Trump drags open the closet door on the GOP and shows everyone what’s in it. Thus far in his campaign I haven’t heard anything he has said that, if couched in less caustic, bombastic, or otherwise reworked by spin artists to be more palatable, is not what all the rest have said or hoped for or believed for two decades. Or more. In other words, Trump has stripped the politically polished veneer off the GOP platform and shown us the ugly workings inside.
Added to that, on stage, during the debates,he has been shoveling at the other candidates pretty much the same kind of stuff the entire GOP machine has been flinging at Obama or any other Democrat in their sites for the last seven years. Whether it be the hyperbole of floor speeches in the House and Senate or the little email blasts full of non-facts and smears, this is what the Republican Party has dished out consistently at their perceived enemies—all in the name of “taking back the country” or “making America great again.”
The lesson for everyone is that, rather than accrue negative approval ratings, Trump is leading the pack. The people who believe Obama is a Kenyan Muslim Communist are lapping this noise up as if it’s the Second Coming of Reagan and loving it, entirely sans the sense of irony that Ronald Reagan would be both appalled and unable to win a single caucus on his own in this climate of uber Right Wing—what was it Lindsey Graham said the other day? oh yeah—batshit crazy.
I imagine folks who love Trump now think Graham is a Lefty. And not a bit of irony to be found among them.
Whether Trump is serious about his stated positions or is playing some very broad game of “let’s implode the Republican Party”, the take-away from this is just how desperately insane a significant segment of our population has become. That the equivalent of a substanceless spiel worthy of an Adolf Hitler could be seen as a solution to problems which I suspect most of these folks don’t even understand points up the ruin the last three decades of Republican pillage has left of this country.
Education has been mangled in the name of programs that do the opposite of what their labels claim.
Promised jobs bills have either not appeared or have been used to bust unions or position key industries to be sold overseas, with a concomitant loss of the jobs that once anchored our middle class.
Decent politicians have been hounded out of office by demonizing them for actually doing their jobs, to be replaced by people who wouldn’t know how to manage a paper route and whose only claim to electability is how well they can make their constituency believe that someone else is at fault for their decaying situation.
The national debt has become a tool for sucking the latent wealth out of the country and into a pool of capital that “floats” globally and has no national home, a process that is not illegal because the people who might have brought it to our attention and caused legislation to be passed to prevent it have been fired, moved to other positions, or simply had their wings clipped in the name of profits.
Our standing in the world has been damaged because of a policy attitude that is based on some version of the Old West and the town marshal, with the United States willing at the drop of an insult to invade, bomb, destabilize regimes, or sell guns and bullets to terrorists as long as they claim to love capitalism. Other nations don’t trust us because we gave up solving problems in lieu of international pillage. (I cite KBR as a prime example of what I’m talking about.)
The middle class economy, which at one time was protected and managed in such a way that once a savings account paid interest upward of 3 to 5 %, a time now mythic in these days of a gutless Fed that won’t raised rates so the multinationals might be forced to pay some of their pilfered pelf back into the hands of those from whom they’ve stolen it.
And what is funnier is that the very people who might be able to repair all this are now fighting an uphill battle against charges that have zero substance—that they’re socialists or communists or that they simple want to raise everybody’s taxes or that they’re somehow racists.
Whatever else one might think of them, the only two presidents since 1980 who have overseen a reduction in the deficit and even a partial reduction in the debt are Clinton and Obama.
Every Republican president has presided over massive increases in both the deficit and the debt.
Large deficits and high debt are very good to a certain class of people. It’s that simple. Where, exactly, do you think those interest payments—your taxes—go to service that debt?
The newspeak of the current climate is perverse and, I think, brittle. Observe the shattering going on even within the GOP by Trump, who in almost any other time would be seen as the clown he is acting. The fabric of deceit and lies and misconceptions and misdirections which have formed the core of the GOP for the last two decades cannot hold against the weight of reality.
The danger, though, is that even more rational people have been infected by the politics of image and the legerdemain of mistrust. The campaigns of he-said she-said built on accusations over character and presumed crimes have had their effect even on those who seem to know how they work, so that we see Hillary and Bernie being faced off in battles of gotcha that have no substantive bearing on their positions or their policies. We see people declaring that they will sit the election out if the “wrong” candidate wins the Party nomination.
Are people really that unobservant and narcissistic? All 435 House seats up for reelection this year. Thirty-four Senate seats are in play. Twelve governorships.
The presidency isn’t the only thing at stake. Staying home would be such an abandonment of duty as to amount to moral bankruptcy.
Government, it is said, no longer works. That’s not true, obviously it does, we are not living in an anarchy. But within the less absurd scope of what is meant by that statement, government can only work when people are chosen who know how to do it. We have seen wave after wave of political intransigents and functional idiots sent to Washington time after time. It should surprise no one that things are not working well. When a conservative like Lindsey Graham stands up and declares that his party has gone batshit crazy, it would seem time to take back the controls and go to the polls in November. Staying home would be almost criminal.
This has been a public service screed. Thank you.
Because it’s the end of January and I have too much fiction to do right now to take the time for another long post about anything, so…
Besides, I haven’t done one in a while.
He was a presence in my growing understanding of the professional side of science fiction for almost 40 years. He was the first book editor whose name I knew. I collected a slew of his Timescape imprints from Pocket Books, regarding the label as a mark of excellence in a volatile field that was often untrackable in terms of what was good and what was not. Because of David G. Hartwell, a number of authors came to my attention whose work I have continued to follow to this day.
I was fortunate to know him. A little. Somehow. We crossed paths enough times to be acquaintances and he was always—always—-gracious and, more importantly, interested.
The first time I saw him was in L.A. in 1984, at L.A.Con II, in a party shortly after the news had broken that Pocket Books had pulled the plug on Timescape. Among the other problems, apparently, was the fact that David kept buying books that wouldn’t sell. By sell, I mean they would not make bestseller lists. Her had this arcane idea, apparently, that a good book ought to be published, regardless of the numbers it might (or might not) generate. Odd notion, that, in an era dominated by the quest for the next blockbuster. But David kept acquiring and championing books that did not have that kind of potential. Anyway, I saw him in a hotel corridor, his hair sprayed with red and pink highlights. (In contrast, I recall his tie was relatively tame.) We spoke briefly. I was just a fan and a wannabe writer at that time. We talked a bit about the books and publishing. A few minutes. He said, finally, “Yes, well, the books are out there now.” He had won one over the corporates. The books had been published, despite the disapproval of the suits.
We said hi to each other in Atlanta in ’86 and by then I was, with some temerity, trying to write novels. We connected again in 2000, in Chicago, where we spent a couple of hours talking at the Japanese party at worldcon. I remember that especially because it was the quietest party I’d ever attended at a worldcon—-or any con, for that matter—and David spoke knowledgeably about Japan and fandom there. In the midst of our conversation, a number of our hosts,in kimonos, stopped at the same time, producing a variety of small cameras, and snapped pictures of us, as if by pre-arrangement. By then Allen Steele had joined us, so they were getting pictures of two famous SF personalities and one semi-obscure one.
A few years later I was involved with the Missouri Center for the Book. I’d just become its president and we were trying some new events, and one idea I came up with was what I called the Genre Forums. We would do a public panel with a number of writers in a given genre, with a Q & A afterward. The first one we did was science fiction, of course, and I had Robin Bailey come in from Kansas City, Carolyn Gilman, who lived in St. Louis then, Nisi Shawl from Seattle, and myself. At the last minute, David called Robin. He had seen a notice for the event. He was coincidentally going to be in St.Louis for a family wedding that weekend and wondered if this was something he should attend. Robin called me to see if I wanted David on the panel. Rhetorical question. We had a small audience, unfortunately, because it was a first-rate panel. My partner, Donna, said it was the best panel she had ever seen, and by then we had both seen enough to judge. His presence, his knowledge, his erudition graced our discourse with a sensibility difficult to describe, but it was wonderful.
After that he began soliciting work from me. We never connected on a project, but we had several fine conversations afterward. He was, I learned, a wine lover and I was able to introduce him to one.
Of course, he’s famous for the outré ties. He possessed an antic quality that leavened his profound seriousness. He had been instrumental in many careers.
He bridged the tail end of the Golden Age and the present. Elder statesman of the field seems a bit pompous, but in many ways it was true. For a long time he ran the New York Review of Science Fiction—where I finally sold him a few things—and through that facilitated a high-minded, ongoing discussion of the workings, the objectives, the ongoing assessment of science fiction and, indeed, literature.
Here is the Locus obituary for more detail.
David took me seriously. I am glad I knew him, sorry I didn’t know him better, and feel the world has lost a gentle, intelligent, wise light.
At the gym this morning, listening to the news while doing treadmill, I learned that, quote, it is official, the Rams have filed to move back to L.A., unquote.
Those of you who know me will not be surprised that I am fine with this. Go, leave. Aside from one season and a surprise upset, allowing St. Louis to claim a superbowl win for its archives, the Rams have been…problematic. We built them a dome. We have suffered through the hissy-fits of their owner(s). We have been held hostage by Rams management over the issue of building yet another dome in order to keep a team that rarely (ever?) fills the seats at the stadium they already have. They have been a drain on the emotional (and fiscal) resources of this city and to no purpose.
Do any fans really care about seeing them in a new arena? Other than the ones with stock options involved?
Be that as it may, I understand. This isn’t about money. It’s about a devotion with which I have some understanding but no connection. And it would not bother me in the least if the only money involved were private money.
But somehow these uber-rich owners keep demanding municipalities pony up a bribe to keep these teams local, as if they have a right to expect us to pay for their profits before, during, and after, so that a minority of people can go to a handful of games that could be watched on television—in which case it really wouldn’t matter where it was played, you could green-screen any venue you wanted—and task the resources which could well be spent on something vital, like schools or poverty programs or that aquarium proposed several years ago which keeps being ignored but would actually serve a purpose, namely education.
If the powers that be in St. Louis can come together to bypass the right of the citizens to vote on an issue and allocate many millions for a purpose which, as far as I can see, is nothing but the real world equivalent of an XBox thrill, then why can’t they do the same for something that actually benefits people?
The Rams matter to me not a bit. Stay, go, I don’t care. But the politics around this do matter because they are indicative of skewed priorities and a mindset that finds it easier to throw bread and circuses at people rather than do anything constructive that might improve lives. The Board of Alderman and the local courts have demonstrated an ability to act on something relatively unimportant only because money is involved. They can damn well do their jobs and act on things that pertain to the commonwealth and stop assuming our tax dollars are well-spent on distractions and short term diversions.
Let the Rams go. Now, can we have a serious discussion about that aquarium?
Yesterday, in fact.
Somehow, seeing the new Star Wars film on January 1st was the perfect thing to do. We went to the Moolah Theater on Lindell and had popcorn and sat back and became 12-year-olds for over two hours and it was…wonderful.
I have seen much back-and-forthing over this film the last few weeks, including some ill-advised and unwelcome splenetic blathering from George Lucas himself over how he disliked the direction J.J. Abrams has taken. I have also seen for myself the new action figure set at Target which failed to include the key character in what must be considered one of the most blatant examples of denial in industry marketing since…I don’t know. What? You really don’t think little girls will buy these even with such a full-on kick-ass role model as Rey? Or are you afraid they will buy them and we’ll have another round of how de-feminized the character is and how she’s a bad example for little girls who might opt out of the whole cute-girl-whose-brains-are-secondary track of socialization?
To get this out of the way right now, I think Rey is possibly the best thing about the new Star Wars. Vertently or otherwise, something significant has been achieved in her and I applaud it. Take note, ye unwitting crafters of the female entity for screen and page, this is how you do it. Simply put, she is her own self. She does not define herself by the men in her life, she not trade herself for favors, she does not bow to fashion conventions that depend on genitalia. She has her own concerns, her own goals, and runs her life on her own, the only constraints on any of that being the same exact constraints put on every other being in the world she inhabits.
And she is a deeply, deeply ethical and empathetic person. One who is not afraid to act on her own judgment, consequences be damned.
And she pays for it with doubt and fear and the agon of the compassionate.
As if she were a real person.
Person.
(Why does he go on about this? Why is he getting loud? What’s the deal?)
The deal is, so seldom in something like this do we get to see a woman as Person First, self-consistent, competent, and heroic, who does the rescuing, fights (and wins) against the bad guy, and can remain herself as a human being. She also has friendships. Not lovers, there’s no suggestion of that, not even as foreshadowing. Friends. They didn’t even try to dress her up in some form-accentuating bit of impractical gauzy revealing nonsense so we’d all see that while she’s running around kicking ass and being amazing she has cleavage and nice thigh. She’s dressed for work, for survival, for movement, for function. Her hair is even done practically.
By accident or intent, they did Rey right.
So how come she’s not in the action figure collection?
I have my opinions and they are not charitable. But it may turn out to be beside the point.
As to all the other dross being spake about how it stacks up to the rest of the films…
Sure, it’s a broad retread of the very first film. So what? This is myth, which is cyclic, and the value is in reaffirmation and validation. It is a Hero’s Journey and going all the way back to Gilgamesh certain forms remain constant. There are tests and trials and the plot matters much less than the manner of challenge and the quality of its confrontation. George Lucas forgot that when he made episodes 1, 2, and 3. He tried to turn a quest fantasy into science fiction, he tried to interject politics, he tried to justify things in a way that didn’t so much subvert what he had done before as crack the road in front of the calabash. J.J. Abrams, or whoever was principally responsible for the storyline here, went back to the Campbellian mythic underpinnings (Joseph not John W.) and brought back what mattered and made the first couple so compelling. Certain mythic forms reoccur, time and again, and Joseph Campbell understood this and Lucas sort of did, we think, at least in the beginning, but it went off the rails when a certain gravitic pull to compete with Star Trek seemed to drag everything off in an inauspicious direction. In spite of the superb craft of those later films, the genuinely well-executed action, and even the plot logic of much of it, they were curiously empty. One thing after another, with only a few moments of transcendence that failed to rescue them from essentially tales about bureaucratic failure. Lucas can be as snarky as he likes, but Episode VII has gone back to what made the first three films work.
And did it very well.
Episode IV and V were all about Becoming. Episode VI was about coming to terms with what you have Become.
Episodes I, II, and III were all about breaking things.
Episode VII is about Becoming.
And Rey? Pay attention, fellas. This is how it’s done. This is what a human being looks like. This is a hero.
I should be working on my novel. Instead, I’m bingeing on Elementary, working on my end-of-year ruminations.
I’m not sure if these serve much, if any, purpose. I’ve never seemed able to sustain a journal or diary before. Blogging (such a clutzy name for it, but we seem stuck with it now; certainly some examples of the “art” fit the nomenclature) for whatever reason, seems suited to my temperament in this regard. On the other hand, I never tried using my past journal attempts for editorializing.
Be that as it may, it’s one method of tracking…progress?
I’ve been working on a new novel. I’ve mentioned that before, of course. As of today, I’m about a third of the way through and I feel it’s going well. I still have one more in the alternate history trilogy I’ve been writing the last several years, but this new one—a full-blown science fiction work involving interstellar travel, aliens, fey physics, and immortality—has my more immediate attention and the enthusiasm of my agent. I finished the first draft in the summer, before we went on a short vacation, long overdue, to see friends in Pittsburgh. No telling how long it will take me to finish it, because I’m taking my time with it.
I’ve had less free time this past year to work on it, but that can’t be helped. Besides graduating to full-time employment at Left Bank Books, which I’m thoroughly enjoying, the situation with Donna’s parents has continued, consuming time and emotional energy. Without going into detail, I’ll just say that Donna has been magnificent in her attention to detail and the execution of her responsibilities toward them. As always, I feel privileged to be part of her life. Matters have reached a point now where she need not spend so much time.
What I had taken to be signs of stress turned out to be an ear infection she has been suffering for an unknown length of time. It never got to the point of actually hurting, so it went untreated till recently. She’s doing much better now.
All that to say that circumstances, once again, are changed, and I’ve had to accommodate the new dynamic. I am. I’m working at an acceptable pace and I am pleased with the product. We are starting to take more time for ourselves again.
I underwent surgery last March to repair a rupture tendon in my right arm. I have scrupulously followed doctor’s orders and the recovery has been satisfactory. I’m back at the gym. I’m about 20% down from where I was before the injury, but I’m not complaining—I’m 61, after all, and in fair shape, but I am realistic about what I can do. I tire more easily. Aches and pains don’t go away as fast. Still, I worked out this morning and did incline presses at 90 lbs per hand. It will do.
The year has been a mix of up and down. One of my musical heroes (Chris Squire) passed away, leaving me sad in the way people a few years older must have felt about John Lennon’s passing. You will find my thoughts in the previous post, under the link Passing of Giants. There were other deaths that bothered me, made me feel the world that informed me has shrunk considerably, but none quite so trenchant as that one.
On the high side, though, Harlan Ellison came to St. Louis to attend our local convention, Archon, somewhat at my instigation, and it was, as I wrote, a Peak Experience. That I can say that Harlan is a friend is one of the most unlikely claims I ever expected to be able to make. The visit was anxiety-laden, of course, as he’s not in the best of health and there were…concerns. But it all came off well and he had a great time, which was all I hoped for. Several of his friends came from all over to see him at the convention. It was magical.
I’m not reading as much as I’d like. Yeah, I know, I work at a bookstore, what do I mean I don’t have time to read? Well, I work for a successful bookstore, so no, there’s no reading on the job. I’ll outline my year’s reading over on the Proximal Eye. I have read some very good books, though, and I’ll take quality over quantity any day.
All in all, 2015 was much better than 2014. Things are happening. I am grateful for the people in my life. My lifelong friends are still among the best and we have added new friends, some unexpectedly, who have added enormously to the quality of our lives. (You coworkers at the store, I’m referring to you. Thank you all.)
I’m not saying as much as I have in the past. I expect the reports filed over the course of the next 12 months to be filled with positive developments. We don’t make resolutions, but we have Intentions. 2016, should we manage to achieve even half of what we have in the works, will be incredible.
But it already begins thus. The various elements surrounding us have already promised to aid in great things. And, again, I go forward with the best partner anyone could ask for.
So I’ll leave it brief this year and a bit less detailed. I’ll leave it with a hope everyone has a better year going forward and a thank you to everyone who has made the year just past as good as it was.
A lazy, restful day. A walk with the dog, a nap, then later in the evening time with good friends. Next few days I’ll be doing my year-end summaries. Meantime…
