tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1484180326012950400.post7877801672472335886..comments2024-03-27T23:55:17.673-07:00Comments on Flogging Babel: Samuel R. Delany and Me at the Joyce Kilmer Service Area, March 2005Michael Swanwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18389836784776252022noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1484180326012950400.post-13504765614085182822014-05-07T14:49:14.327-07:002014-05-07T14:49:14.327-07:00PS: Michael, I have noticed that whenever you visi...PS: Michael, I have noticed that whenever you visit, all the tiny lead civilians turn their faces away from you.... Now I know why, Eileen Gunnhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08142274562155993622noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1484180326012950400.post-52114094874641128572014-05-07T14:33:21.574-07:002014-05-07T14:33:21.574-07:00Thank you, Michael. Of all the stories, that one m...Thank you, Michael. Of all the stories, that one most needed an introduction and an affirmation that the story-telling robot is seriously misinformed. Climate change has come upon us so quickly that that the depiction of a March day on the Jersey turnpike being hot and humid has lost the effect of announcing a work as satire. <br /><br />The story's origin lies in my reading a particular Guy Davenport story -- which one, I forget. If I recall correctly, it was set in the first century AD and involved an account of a journey by a famous writer or historian. Davenport is a marvelous writer, and I was completely carried away by his descriptions of the weather and locale, by the thoughts of the traveler, by the things he encountered. As I was finishing the story, I wondered, "How does Davenport know all these things?" It must require an enormous erudition -- which of course Davenport had: he was at least as erudite as Avram Davidson (with whom he corresponded), and this is very erudite indeed. At first I was depressed, thinking, "I don't know enough to be a writer." And then common sense responded: "Don't be silly. Davenport makes things up and then convinces you they they are true. That's what writers do." And I thought, "I can do that."<br /><br />That tiny bit of quoted dialog -- "I'm a burger kind of guy." "So am I." -- was what I built the rest of the story on. It stuck in my mind because, although I don't know what kind of a fast-food guy Samuel R. Delany is, you, Michael, are definitely a burger kind of guy. Ellen Klages and I had lunch with you at a burger place in Philadelphia in September, 2004, and I have to say that I have never seen anyone who is more a burger kind of guy than you are. That is probably why you remembered that exchange and why you quoted it to me in the first place. Frankly, I don't actually remember anything else you may have said about that trip, except that it was on the Jersey turnpike. I think you mentioned Davenport and we talked about him, and that's why you and your hamburgers came to mind when I wrote that odd little piece. I really had written it only to amuse you, so in that sense it was written for a small and rarefied audience.<br /><br />It certainly should not be read as conveying anything that you and Samuel R. Delany actually talked about. Eileen Gunnhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08142274562155993622noreply@blogger.com