Alexei in America

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My apologies for being a day late! I've been squiring about my Russian friend, Alexei Bezougly, in Philadelphia. Here he is at (inevitably) the Liberty Bell.

Yesterday I went with him to the Franklin Institute and took in the Galileo exhibit (featuring one of the two surviving telescopes that Galileo owned and used) and the Star Trek exhibition. A bit of cultural whiplash there. I may have to write an essay.

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Eileen Gunn on Video

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I just found this on YouTube! The immortal Eileen Gunn being interviewed in Japan a couple of years ago. She's obviously tired, but she still has that pleasantly strange quality of bemusement that is her hallmark.

Here's the video. I have no idea what's going on with the feet.

And that comment about "a peace-keeping measure"? Neither Eileen nor I will give an inch on matters of literature. "Eileen is as proud as I am," I told Marianne recently.

"The phrase you're looking for is 'proud as the Devil.'"

"The Devil's not half the writer I am!"

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The Inimitable Jeffrey Ford

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It's Memorial Day and after the services at Gorgas Park, I'm off to a barbecue with friends. So this will be a brief post.

Friday, at Philly Fantastic, my old pal Jeff Ford read his story, "Night Whiskey." And he mesmerized the crowd. Then he apologized because the story was so long. But nobody was complaining. We could have listened all night.

In the car, on the way home, Marianne turned to me and said, "And I thought your stuff was strange!"

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The Death of Culture on a Lazy Friday Morning

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It's a lazy Friday morning and I'm finally back home after a week on the road, so I'm feeling singularly unambitious. Plus, I used up the only piece of news I had by posting it yesterday. So today's post is going to be a simple demonstration in two parts that our culture is now finally and officially dead.

Exhibit A is a gallery demonstrating contemporary taste in unicorn tattoos. Click here to see it.

Exhibit B (and it is unanswerable) is the crime against culture below. Literary discretion is advised.

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And at the Risk of Being Boring . . .

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. . . there's yet MORE good news for me!  I'm up for the Sturgeon Award!

Here's the short-list:

"The Gambler", Paolo Bacigalupi (Fast Forward 2)
"The Political Prisoner", Charles Coleman Finlay (F&SF 8/08) 
"True Names", Cory Doctorow & Benjamin Rosenbaum (Fast Forward 2)
"The Ray Gun: A Love Story", James Alan Gardner (Asimov's 2/08) 
"Memory Dog", Kathleen Ann Goonan (Asimov's 4-5/08)
"The Tear", Ian McDonald (Galactic Empires)
"Special Economics", Maureen McHugh (The Del Rey Book of Science Fiction and Fantasy)
"His Master's Voice", Hanu Rajaniemi (Interzone #218) 
"From Babel's Fall'n Glory We Fled", Michael Swanwick (Asimov's 2/08). 

Kij Johnson's "26 Monkeys, Also the Abyss" (Asimov's, 7/08) was also a finalist.  But because Johnson was a juror, she removed it from consideration.  Which was a classy thing to do.  Particularly since "26 Monkeys, Also the Abyss" is widely held to be a front-runner for the Hugo.  Which it's also been nominated for.

So . . . my hat's off to the lady with ethical standards.  And congratulations to all the other nominees.

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One Page from the Scribbledehobbledehoydenii

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I've started scanning random pages from my notebooks -- the Scribbledehobbledehoydenii, as I've named them because, well, because I could -- which I plan to post in plenitude when the next novel comes out. In the meantime, up above is a preview. This is a picture that I tore from a magazine and pasted down and then extemporized a story upon. The point of doing this? To impose a first-draft discipline on myself. "First thought, best thought," as the beats used to say. Transparently untrue though that is.

And the story itself? It goes as follows:

I know what you're thinking, but don't be afraid. I'm a doctor, a mentalist, I've sworn the Hippocratic Oath.

Actually, no I haven't and no I'm not. I bought this empath mask in a yard sale and that's why you're lying on that bed, strapped motionless, hand and foot, and unable to remember how you got here. I'm going to play mind games with you now, and then we'll play body games.

Oh, hahaha! You believed me. No, I'm really a doctor. For real. But to get access to your deepest fears and memories, I had to pretend to be a mental predator. You don't need worry about them -- they're few, disorganized, and in hiding.

Perhaps.

Did you ever stop to think how much fun it would be to play with a conventional little mind like your own? One that's surprised by what pleasure another might get out of introducing it to the possibility of creative agony?

It could be fun. It could be grand.

Okay, I've got your readings now and therapy can begin. Don't worry, this is all for your own good.

You may experience a little pain.

"Here We Go"

by M. S.

12/03/08

Oh, and despite the date that Blogspot is going to put on it, this is my Monday blog. I'm going to be traveling, though, and thought I should post it early.

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Sushi and Martinis Friday

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It's summer in Philadelphia and it's a Friday, which in my house means Sushi and Martinis for dinner.  So you will pardon me if I'm experiencing a certain lack of ambition.

Today's news is that the latest New York Review of Science Fiction has just come out, with (among other things) my review of TH.2058 and Tom Purdom's latest installment of When I Was Writing.  It's always a pleasure to share a magazine with Tom, and this time is no exception.

If you haven't read Tom Purdom's literary memoir, then you really should.  Tom had the (in retrospect) blindingly obvious insight that what's interesting about writers is not their political opinions, or the places they go, or their dicta on the social aspects of technology, but rather . . . what they write.  So he's been going through his career, story by story, telling us what he wrote, why he wrote it, and what ideas went into each story.

It's grand stuff.  You can check it out at Tom's web site.   The first ten installments of his memoir are here.

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