Filed under writing

darwin’s bastards @ the writers festival

This morning I went to the Vancouver International Writers and Readers Festival for an event. Zsuszi Gartner was hosting three of the writers from Darwin’s Bastards. With four writers reading from their work, there wasn’t as much conversation as I might have enjoyed, but it was entertaining. The split between the bigger writers (William Gibson & Yann Martel) and the smaller writers (Adam Lewis Schroeder & Anosh Irani) was something that could have been more interesting to explore. There was a question from the audience about whether they write for an audience or think about their works as marketable items, which is a fundamentally different question when you’ve written a “big” book like Life of Pi, vs created a genre, vs are a playwright no one has ever heard of.

I think my favourite part of the panel was watching the writers listen to each other reading. Martel seemed very contemplative, inwardly focused while Gibson listened carefully and openly loved the funny bits. Also, he did his “imaginative fiction being every kind of fiction” thing which I do appreciate when people try to pigeon-hole sf. The way Irani read his story was much less flippant than the voice that was in my head, but that seriousness made the black comedy of that womb-creature even more stark. Schroeder also sang a song, in a Feist-like way. He was pretty fun, very much the dramatizer of his tale.

After the discussion I stood in line to get my copy of Darwin’s Bastards signed by the four of them. And it’s funny, but when I’ve been talking about this book to people in person, I’ve tended to tell them about the Schroeder story first. I told him that, and he seemed to appreciate it. I didn’t mention that William Gibson is the first author in the collection I mention.

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the machine of death has arrived

Machine of Death Day is October 26, 2010So a few years ago I wrote a story for an awesome sounding SF anthology edited by webcomic people I really like (Ryan North, David Malki !, and Matthew Bennardo who I’m not really aware of outside of this context) called The Machine of Death. It’s available now on Amazon, but if you’re interested in buying it, it’d be great if you could do it on October 26 (from Amazon.com). If you want more information about the history behind the anthology and why we’d like you to buy it that day (hint: it has to do with being an indie publisher trying to make a splash), this post should explain things a bit.

But, you might be saying, what is this anthology about? Well, the concept is that they’re stories from a world where the Machine of Death exists. The Machine tells you how you will die. It is infallible, but can be cryptic. So the stories are funny or poignant or generally awesome. My story, Firing Squad, is about a traveller in a rebellious mountain country whose benevolence has consequences. The book has 30 or so stories, and each of them is also illustrated by cool people from webcomics. It’s kind of awesome.

So it would be great if you considered buying it (or telling someone else to buy it for you) on Amazon.com on October 26, 2010. It is Creative Commons licensed and will be available electronically for free, but actual sales are good things to encourage this kind of effort in the future. Thanks.
Machine of Death Day is October 26, 2010

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it’s hard to be invisible sometimes

At Canzine West yesterday, I was quietly sitting in the audience for a reading. The first reader was Anna Swanson, a poet, reading some poems in that cadence that spoken word poets have. It seems easy to parody, but it fit with the things she was reading. She talked about being a fire watcher and how in that job you earn your money by remaining sane while being alone in a fire tower for long periods of time. I really liked her poem “When Women Were Clouds.”

Amber Dawn decided not to just read from her novel, Sub-Rosa, because it sounded too much like she was in space, so instead she brought the microphone out to the audience to ask people why they deserved to call themselves an artist, and what they hoped to get out of being there that day. Sadly for me, I was the first person she came to. I don’t do well with that kind of thing at the best of times. Being put on the spot to say something about something I struggle with anyway (go on, ask me the last time I wrote any fiction; I’ll collapse into a puddle of self-loathing) wasn’t very much fun. I told her I didn’t deserve to call myself an artist and asked her why she was doing this to me. It was probably funny for the others sitting there but also painful and sad. Now, of course, I have an answer but it’s too late. When she was done she thanked everyone for playing along, conveniently overlooking my terrible performance in her game.

Other than that, I had a good time. And then watched a Phillies-Giants game (that wasn’t the pitchers’ duel we’d hoped for but was still damned fine baseball), before heading down to Marlis’ photo exhibition from the 12×12 photo marathon. Holly’s pointed out that it seems like I have quite the social life here, even when I’m ostensibly getting schoolwork done.

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workshoppery

Today was part two of this comics making workshop I attended at the library. It was one of those things that made me wish I could draw and don’t have to rely on finding a collaborator to turn my comics ideas into something. That’s why I’ve been shifting away from my comics I suppose. Writing without pictures doesn’t require me to find a person to help me. I can hack away all by myself without bothering anyone. But these two sessions were pretty good. I think I got more out of last week’s than this week’s but whatever. It does feel good to have been in a room with people who care about the same sorts of things I do. I didn’t take full advantage of it because I didn’t want to get in the way of the younger people who the session was really for.</excuse>

Unrelated, I have a place to live in Vancouver! Thank you, Mennonite connections.

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join the fight

This afternoon between downpours I went to the library for a comics making workshop run by John Toone and GMB Chomichuk (which is pronounced completely differently than I would have thought). It was a good time and I wasn’t even the oldest person there (it was billed as being a YA event), not by far. They talked about formatting issues and pitching your ideas in one sentence, about following instructions and how emails are legally admissible in court. There’ll be another session next week and we have homework to do, which I realize I need. I need some sort of deadline to get work done. So tonight I’ve outlined out the arc of the rest of my graphic novel (Animus Lost, the one that Hassie and I did the idea spitballing for however many years ago). The first near-20% is scripted, and now I know where the rest of it is going. Which is more than the homework but once you get working, good work sort of pulls you along. So yeah, good times.

Also, the other day I noticed that Texas Bound (my story published in Broken Pencil) is now online. I’m not saying you’re going to like it, but it’s there.

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maybe i should have some content up

So I got something fun in the mail today. The latest issue of Broken Pencil, the magazine of zine culture and the independent arts. The reason this is extra fun is that I have a story in it. It’s near the back, is very short and is not a real pretty story. It’s called Texas Bound. Mom, you won’t like it. (I like it though.)

I just kind of panicked when it came in the mail because my bio/blurb after the story mentions this here website and I realized I haven’t written anything besides book reviews on here in quite some time. So, if you’re here from Broken Pencil and aren’t really keen on reading all my half-assed book reviews, check out my China posts. They’re probably the best stuff on here since the unpleasantness I’m not supposed to talk about. And I just noticed most of the links are broken on the Journalism page. That’s too bad. But I’ve got a Flickr account and Vagabondscrawl is my linkblog if you care what I’m reading.

Anyway. I had a good day. I have a couple of book reviews that need writing, but I’ll get them up tomorrow. Tonight I have Lego robots to build. On Friday I’ve got the day off and I am totally getting my shit together to take some decent pictures of them.

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jobbing along despite the demoralization

At the desk yesterday there were two separate interesting questions. One was a woman who corralled Ashleigh into helping her at the computers. Ashleigh’d already helped her find a computer that could do what she wanted, but the woman seemed needy of more help and dragged her away to the far computer bank. I could see them standing and talking and Ashleigh gave the occasional look back at the desk. When a phone call came for her it was perfectly timed so I could go rescue my coworker. I let the woman know I could help her if that wasn’t a problem.

The woman wanted to save a document to her new flash drive. Cool beans. She also wanted to talk about her theories of how the government didn’t like her and was trying to delete her work on applying for EI. I let her talk as she rooted through her belongings. I got scissors to open the flash drive packaging. We navigated to the government of Canada site and found the document she needed to fill out. Then the computer popped up a screen saying you couldn’t fill in the form and save it. You could fill it in and print it though. And thus began the explanation of how she’d filled the form out once and then it had all been wiped out so she came to the library. She was concerned that would happen again, peppering her speaking with “Woe is me” and “Isn’t that just the way it always is” kinds of statements.

So I explained how it would work on the computer she was at. She printed off a blank version of the form. She saved a blank version of the form. Then she started filling it in. I warned her that if she wasn’t done by the time the computer kicked her off to print it, otherwise all her work would disappear again.

I was on break when she came to the desk to get help printing it (which I’d hoped she wouldn’t need, as I’d showed her how to print the document when it was blank and said it would work exactly the same way). But she’d come with only 2 minutes left on her time and by the time they got back to the computer she’d been logged off and lost her data. But she would persevere. She had 30 minutes left of internet use on her card so she’d try again. This time it would be better! It wasn’t. She lost all her data again. But we’d tried our best to help her, and listened to her talk (about how her doctor was trying to kill her), so she thought us library folk were all right.

Later on in the evening a young woman came to the desk looking for videos about WalMart. Robert was helping her find the videos and said “Why are these in such different places? One’s in the 658s and the other in 382 (or whatever the specific numbers were)!” So I piped in, “The one in the 658s is about the business of WalMart, and the one in the 300s is about the social environmental whatever issues created by WalMart.” And the young woman said, “Wow, you are passionate about your job!”

“Nah, I just know a couple of things about WalMart. It comes from spending my opinion-formative years reading Adbusters.”

And it was really nice, while Bruce went off to find the actual videos this woman and I chatted about WalMart and how this business prof she has talks about the badness, and she’d never heard any of that before and was now up to researching it. Very pleasant interaction and it made me glad I work in a library, not a cheese factory.

It makes me sad how the administration’s bullshit (about what I can and can’t write on my blog on my own time, and whether I’m actually cut out to be a librarian) affects me. It shouldn’t. They’re just suits who want everyone to behave like them. But it gets to me. I hate thinking about them but I do. It saps my writing and my life in general. I wish I didn’t have to feel like shit all the time. I like being passionate about my job. I want to be, but assholes who’ve never worked with me think I’m a liar who shouldn’t continue in the job I’m pretty fucking good at. It sucks.

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book review: shivering sands

Warren Ellis writes a lot on the internet. Shivering Sands is a collection of his essays. They’re very good even though I’d read them all before. He talks about writing about cooking about music and most importantly about the future. This book was a Print on Demand experiment and it hasn’t made a lot of money. But it’s a good little book to take with you places and read and think.

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book review: the city & the city

I’ve already talked a bit about China Mieville’s The City & The City, but here’s the review. Wow. Not that it was mind-blowing in the story. I mean, it was a detective story, there was a mystery and a detective trying to solve it. All right. Cool. In the end the mystery gets solved and we find out who did what and how. Great. If that was all it was I would not be nearly so jazzed about it, but even taken just on that level it’s a good mystery story. I didn’t feel let down when the pieces fell into place (and with this book it’s important that those pieces didn’t “come together”) and the tale was about smart people doing smart things. No idiocy required.

Except.

The world Mieville creates here is a piece of inspired idiotic madness that I hated and loved to fucking pieces. I hated the idiocy of people living right next to each other being forced to “unsee” the things that were right there. But I loved that we’re seeing these cities through the eyes of a person who believes in the boundaries and their importance. It would have been so much easier to do this story from the point of view of a character like the reader, someone who doesn’t get the boundaries between the two cities, who would have to have it explained. But that would have been so unsatisfying in comparison. The way the book is written, you’re gradually introduced to the idea of the two cities because it’s normal. The narrator doesn’t say “This is so weird!” because that’s our role as the reader. By the time we get a tourist character who behaves the way you or I would in this mad city, we’re on the narrator’s side, but we can see ourselves in these interlopers.

This is a book I feel like I’m going to need to take apart to see how he did it so beautifully. Through the whole reading I was thinking “how could this possibly have happened?” and the book stays resolutely away from giving us an answer. Even though archaeologist characters abound. Speculation about the nature of the Cities fuels the whole thing, and even though it couldn’t possibly work in real life, the book states as fact how it does. And he does it in such a way you believe it. So fucking good.

Even though I read it in 2010, this was probably my favourite SF novel from 2009. Although looking at my shelves a bit more closely it was probably only the second SF novel I read published in 2009. (The other was Bruce Sterling’s The Caryatids, see my review here, which was very good in plausible worldbuilding kind of way but lacked The City & the City’s compelling story.)

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book review: number9dream

I picked up David Mitchell’s number9dream from the library last week, solely because we didn’t have The Cloud Atlas in. “Japan?” I said upon picking this one up, “Sure I’ll give it a shot.”

The thing I’ve been telling everyone about it is how British it feels, despite being about a young Japanese man from the countryside going to Tokyo to find the father he never met. It’s mostly just the turns of phrase Eiji (the main character and narrator) uses to describe things. The occasional word from the English countryside is a little jarring. At first I thought this was going to annoy me to no end, but as it went on it became kind of a translation artifact. It almost made it feel more Japanese because of the obviousness of the filter. I wonder how it is when translated into Japanese?

The thing that really made the book for me was the shifting styles in each part. There’s the story of Eiji Miyake trying to find his father, but each section has different sort of dreams. Panopticon is filled with wish-fulfillment action movie daydreams (and are perfect for making the book grab you and knock you a little off-kilter). Lost Property is all flashbacks and remembering. Video Games is mediated escape from reality. Et cetera. So structurally/stylistically: great.

The story itself works, though the quest itself isn’t the main thing. At least not for me. There are unrealistic things that happen. There are Yakuza; I won’t deny that. There is a bit of a sense of the writer stringing the protagonist along in service of the structure of the book. But whatever. I was happy to take the ride. It took me through some of the same headspace that a Haruki Murakami novel does (there is a discarded Murakami novel as a tiny bit of set-dressing in one of the chapters and I am sure Mitchell was conscious of the comparison) which is a place I like to be.

I don’t know if it’s a really good book or not. Maybe it’s culturally imperialistic or ethnocentric or one of those other very bad things of me to think that some young white guy can write a good novel about Japan. Maybe I only like it because it’s the kind of Murakami pastiche my China book might turn into. I know I liked it though.

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