Today! At SPARKLE BOOKSTORE!!!

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I'm doing a reading today at The Sparkle Bookstore in Sparkill, New York.

At last! I was originally scheduled to appear there two weeks ago. There was a snow squall that morning, but Marianne and I got into the car anyway and... two miles down the road, after a lot of close calls, we passed a stranded bus and saw a car slide sideways into a transformer box.  It became clear that we could never make it to the bookstore in time (we'd given ourselves an extra hour), so we called them to cancel and went home.

Round trip: Four miles in an hour. 

The kind people at Sparkle rescheduled for the following weekend.

And then--you saw this coming--Snowmagodzillageddon! My second appearance was rescheduled.

But now, mirabile dictu, the weather gurus say it won't snow until the next day. Which means I'll be reading and shmoozing at 3 p.m. today! I'm looking forward to it.

If you're in the area, you should consider showing up. Not for my sake but because look at the picture above! Isn't that just the coolest, most sincere, most gemutlich bookstore you've ever seen? Be honest now. It's the Ted Lasso of independent book retail. How could you possibly resist it?

I don't think you can. But if you can, don't.

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I Believe There Was Also a Library . . .

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The Universe Box, my newest collection of short fiction, almost a decade in the making, is coming out in only a few days. Ass it chances, I was just now rererereading the almost-title-story, "Universe Box," and came upon the following notion, which pleased me greatly when I came up with it:

The Universe Box, my newest collection of short fiction, almost a decade in the making, is coming out in only a few days. As it chances, I was just now rererereading the almost-title-story, "Universe Box," and came upon the following notion, which pleased me greatly when I came up with it:

Holding up a finger, Uncle Paulie made an owlish face and said, “Let me posit a question: What one thing does the world currently need most? Eh?”

“Um... love?” Howard ventured.

“World peace,” Mimi said firmly.

“Pah! I’m disappointed in you both. A good bottle of wine, of course!” Uncle Paulie flipped open the lid of the cigar box and reached within. “As you doubtless know, the very finest collection ever assembled was the legendary Wine Cellar of Alexandria. Destroyed in that dreadful fire, such a pity. But no matter. I’ll just have to dig deeper.”

Uncle Paulie is, of course, Trickster. Howard is in for a hard time of it. And Mimi is, despite being kidnapped by the most dangerous assassin in the universe, about to have the time of her life.

But that's not why I shared that excerpt with you. The Wine Cellar of Alexandria! Makes you wonder what else went up in that dreadful blaze, doesn't it?

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Win A Free Copy of The Universe Box

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Tachyon Publications has a small but painless contest--a chance to win a physical copy of my new short fiction collection, The Universe Box, or one of three e-book versions.

Which is not as big as winning the lottery. But it costs nothing and you don't have to walk to he corner store to enter.

Just click here, scroll down past the effusive praise from writers I admire and respect, and look for the buttons marked "enter giveaway."

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Books! Booze! Ellen Kushner! Caitlin Rozakis! Amanda Cockrell! And Also Me

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Above, l-r: Caitlin Rozakis, Ellen Kushner, Michael Swanwick, Amanda Cockrell, Randee Dawn

Last night, I had a reading for Brooklyn Books & Booze , hosted by Randee Dawn at Barrow's Intense Ginger. It was great fun, if you happened to be me, and everybody else seemed to be enjoying themselves as well.

Also reading was Ellen Kushner, my dear friend from so long ago that neither of us can remember that far back. As she recently posted, she and I invented fire.

We met. We embraced. I said, "What putzes we were! We invented fire and didn't patent it!"

"I know!" she said. "And look at who we gave it to."

I also got to meet Caitlin Rozakis and Amanda Cockrell, both of whom impressed me greatly. You might well want to consider reading their work. 

It was a warm (not literally; the temperature was so cold that the traditional BB&B outdoor pic was taken inside) and gemutlich evening. The attendees were everything you would want in an audience. And they loved my story. I know because what seemed to be a dozen sought me out and told me so.

In retrospect, this was inevitable. There were a lot of writers, readers, and literary types present and "The Star-Bear" was about maintaining artistic integrity in the face of philistines with power. There is a particular pleasure in hearing your audience laughing at all the right places, horrified at the moments you thought worst, and approving of how the story ended when it finally found safe harbor.

I've been at Brooklyn Books & Booze before and can honestly recommend it as a warm and pleasant way to spend an evening. With or without my presence.

Also, the drinks are good.

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Today's Bookstore Reading CANCELLED and RESCHEDULED

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I had been looking forward today's reading at Sparkle Bookstore in Sparkill, NY. Then, alas, the snow started coming down and the roads turned murderous. I got four miles down the road and it was obvious that 1) I could never make the trip in time for the scheduled event, and 2) that it would be dangerous to try. In that brief time, I saw two cars slide off the road. One of them ran into a pad-mounted transformer. 

So I had to cancel. That felt bad.

The good news is that the event has been rescheduled to Sunday, January 25 at 3:00 p.m. 

I'll keep my fingers crossed that it doesn't snow.

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A Paucity of Cat Whiskers

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I have never in my life thanked a reviewer for a positive review. That would be insulting. All he or she has to offer is their honest opinion. Injecting the reviewee's reaction would cheapen that and make it out to be less than it was.

Nevertheless, I was greatly pleased by Gary Wolfe's review of The Universe Box. By my reading (and of course yours may differ), he understood what I was getting at in every story of the collection. And if my publisher is looking for a blurb-quote, why, here it is: "for all his narrative adventurousness and sly wit, Swanwick can also be a master of evocative, graceful prose."

That's all very gratifying.

But I am not grateful for it. Because my desire from long before my first published story was to deserve such praise. If I have done so, good. If not, my bad. And if you wonder whether I deserve such a positive review, well... you can always read the book.

Those with money are encouraged to support their local indie bookstore. Those without have a friend in interlibrary loan.

And f you are curious, you can read Wolfe's entire review here.

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Sparkle Bookstore Reading This Saturday!

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This Saturday, January 17, at 3:00 p.m., I will do a reading from my new collection, The Universe Box, at the Sparkle Bookstore in Sparkill, New York. Since the book is still a couple of weeks away from its publication date, I believe this will be the first opportunity ever to purchase a copy in a bookstore. Which is, let's face it, the best way there is to buy a book.

This should be a fun event. If you can make it there, please do. The address is:

The Sparkle Bookstore

642 Main Street

Sparkill, NY

You can read their promo for the event here.

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A Brief But Telling Anecdote About Sheila Williams

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I was extremely unhappy to learn that Sheila Williams, a dear friend as well as being the editor of Asimov's Science Fiction, has been hospitalized with a brain aneurism.

When bad things happen to good friends, I try to avoid slathering them with abstract praise. Instead, I prefer to relate an anecdote, something scandalous-but-not-too-scandalous, revealing some admirable facet of their essence. 

That's not so easy about the woman Isaac Asimov routinely referred to as "Sweet Sheila Williams." (Asimov had an epithet for everyone. Gardner Dozois, for example, was always referred to as "Chestertonian.") And there's some truth there. Sheila is even tempered and mercifully free of the sharp comments that are all too common among the literary and witty.

That doesn't mean she doesn't think them, though.

I remember sitting in the bar at some Worldcon or other with Sheila and Terry Bisson. We were all drinking but Terry was far, far in the lead. He was talking about his recent experiences as a guest at Volgacon, the only SF conference in the Soviet Union (which fell shortly thereafter) to have foreign guests in attendance.

Winding up his account, Terry said, "I told them: 'I know you guys are all capitalists now. But I want you to know that I still hold to the old ways. I'm still a Stalinist.'" Then he got up and staggered away.

Sheila smiled after him--sweetly, of course--and then leaned forward and confided, "I had such a hard time not saying: 'You and Fidel, Terry."

That's Sheila. As sharp-witted as any of us, but too kind to let us know it.

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You can read Locus Online's account of her hospitalization here.

Above: Sheila's portrait was swiped from the Locus Online account.

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Brooklyn Books & Booze @ Barrows Intense -- January 20 at 7 PM

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Brooklyn Books & Booze @ Barrows Intense is just what the title says--a monthly literary reading series held in a bar in Brooklyn. A week from today, I'll be there. Along with Amanda Cockrell, Caitlin Rozakis, and my particularly valued friend Ellen Kushner. 

And if something within you doesn't want to be there... well, I've lost all respect for you. If you can make it, you're in for a great evening. Butif you can't make it but wish you could, well... There'll be more BB&B@B evenings yet to come.

Have I mentioned that I'll be there? I will. And I'll be brilliant. You don't want to miss this.

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Snow and ICE

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Sunday, I went to an ICE Out protest on the grounds of Cathedral Village. Which is an old age home on what once almost became the grounds of the United Nations (long story; I'll tell it another time), facing Ridge Avenue, which was once an important Leni Lenapi trail to the Delaware River. There's a lot of history in my part of the world.

It was snowing, and bitter cold, and there were around 150 people present. A good quarter of them were waving American flags. Sharik Kahn, our state rep, showed up to say a few words, and was wise enough not to try to hijack the event for his benefit.

Last autumn, I came to the exact same place for a No Kings protest. Same people, similar signs, A goodly number of motorists driving by honked their horns in support. A few flipped the finger.

This time, however, nobody flipped the bird. And a lot honked their support. When the traffic flowed, the honking was almost nonstop. Far more than in the previous protest.

From which I conclude one thing: A lot of people (incorrectly, in my opinion) think that once we elect a president, we have to put up with whatever he does.

But most Americans, even today, disapprove of murder.

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Short Fiction Review: "Because It's There" by Susan Shwartz

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"Because It's There" by Susan Shwartz combines two story types, one of which I like and the other that I loathe. The one I like is the account of mountaineering, which I ate up in nonfiction when my age was still in the single digits. The other is the crashed colony ship story which has been the source of far too much lazy science fiction.

Shwartz makes them both work.

Mountaineering first. The author has clearly done her homework, and that includes knowledge about the Sherpas and their culture. The story shows them respect without romanticizing them. The first ascent of a mountain far higher than Olympus Mons or Rheasilvia in our own stellar system is not as visceral as it could be. But there is suffering enough, and anyway that's not what the story is about. No complaints, serious admiration.

The crashed colony ship is dealt with by showing the remnant society that has arisen from the disaster. It is essentially a prestige culture where an individual earns one or two or even three names by worthy behavior. The protagonist, who has three names, is as admired as one can be. But she is willing to risk losing a name if that's the right thing to do. As old tech fails and individuals are killed by their harsh surroundings, she can see the coming death of the colony.

The story begins partway up the mountain. Two outsiders, the first to arrive on the world since the original disaster, want to recover the body of someone who has stolen something infinitely dangerous. Our protagonist leads a crew, all of whom understand the dangers of the never-climbed mountain far more than the outsiders do. They also quietly, without comment, are scandalized when these strangers disrespect a three-named hero like Sir Edmund Hillary by calling him Hillary. But they are also hoping these people can evacuate their colony before they dwindle and die. A request they dare not make until they have earned it through virtuous action.

That's the setup. And its resolution?

I, for one, was completely satisfied.

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