Jagannath, Karin Tidbeck

A journalist recounts an encounter with an alien entity that appears throughout human history, a woman creates a creature from her own blood and spit in a can, and a man falls in love with an airship. These are just a couple of the tales to be found in Swedish author Karin Tidbeck's collection of short fiction, Jagannath. The collection has received considerable critical acclaim in the past couple of months, from Tor.com to NPR, and it's easy to see that the attention is well deserved: it's a brilliant book, full of stories that linger long after the words have been read, and the book replaced on the bookshelf.

Jagannath is by far one of the best books that I've picked up this year, a collection of short stories that left me utterly breathless and at the edge of my seat while reading it. More than once, I found myself at the end of a story, only to turn back and begin rereading it immediately. Each story in this short book is a gem, wonderfully crafted and constructed, each leaving me with a shiver of dread and thrill.

What impressed me the most is how utterly normal and natural a vast majority of the stories felt while reading them: normal people encountering something that's just slightly off from what is typically natural. A woman comes out of the woods and marries into a family - supernatural elements may or may not be at play, while a suicidal friend in Rebecka may or may not be insane, or tormented by divine intervention. Other stories are more fantastic, but still utterly grounded, such as the strange call center in Who is Arvid Pekon?, the timeless fairy world in Augusta Prima or the historical encounters with some sort of creature in Pyret. Still others are way out there, such as in Aunts or the title story, Jagannath. In a lot of ways, she does Lovecraft better than Lovecraft ever did himself.

Location figures into this: I've come across several articles and interviews where Tidbeck highlights her home in Sweden, with its long winters as an inspiration for some of the strange occurrences that she's written about. Coming from New England, with its dark geography and short summers, I can certainly relate to the dark atmosphere that has been injected into these stories.

Tidbeck's stories are uniformly haunting, surreal and sublime, and the collection as a whole is a wonder to behold. There's little surprise to see that the book is recommended by such authors as Ursula K. LeGuin and China Miéville, and Jagannath easily falls into the Weird subgenre, as easily as it can be classified into any genre. The stories are a bit odd, and should place Tidbeck on every reader's must-read list from here on out. I for one, can't wait to see what she has coming up next.

Brian Jacques & Redwall

According to the BBC, children's author Brian Jacques, who is most famous for his Redwall books, has passed away at the age of 72. I'm very saddened by this, because Jacques' books were one of the first introductions that I had to fantasy literature as a child, starting in late elementary school and lasting throughout my time in High School.

My high school library was well stocked by the time that I reached Harwood. The first book that I remember reading from the series was Mossflower, the second book published in the series, with Martin the Warrior fighting against the evil Tsarmina in the castle Kotir, where he frees Mossflower from tyrany. The stories were clearcut, easy to read and no matter how many times I revisited them, I was always entertained by their stories and characters.

There were a number of favorites in the series for me: Mariel of Redwall and The Bellmaker stand out, as well as Mattimeo, The Pearls of Lutra, The Long Patrol, Marlfox, and Lord Brocktree, not to mention the book that started it all: Redwall. But, of all of the stories, Mossflower has long remained a favorite read.

What impressed me the most in the series was the interconnected nature of Jacques' world. The books were published outside of a timeline, and as new books came out, they typically visited different parts of the story's overall chronology. Characters that I read about in one book had become myth or legend in the following, giving an impressive sense of scale for the series, which probably left the biggest impression on me as I began to read fantasy.

Redwall was a series that I eventually phased out of my reading as I got older and found new things to read. As new Redwall books came out, I began to realize that there really wasn't anything new from book to book: the same formula, dialogue and largely - heroic characters - which came into conflict with other things that I was reading that allowed for more variety, and more ambiguity to the characters and plotlines.

I've never looked back on the series since High School, but I've never forgotten that had I not read Redwall as much as I did, I may never have gotten into other speculative fiction books: Harry PotterThe series came towards the end of the Redwall books. This was also at the same time that I started reading the classics of science fiction: Dune and Foundation, I, Robot and Starship Troopers,

The Redwall stories are pivotal novels, perfect for that age: full of adventure, heroic characters and rich worlds, they have an absolute moral compass, but exist outside of the normal conventions: religion doesn't muddy the waters here, and the reliance isn't on the magic or the instruments of the world (in most cases), but on the superb characters themselves that Jacques created.

With his death, the world is missing one excellent storyteller, and for that, I'm saddened, because the stories that he told were the ones that needed to be told: right verses wrong, and that even the meek can go on to become something great, even legendary.

China Miéville’s Tale of Two Cities: The City and The City

The City and The City is the first and only book that I've picked up that was authored by China Miéville, and it's easily one of the best books that I've read all year. The story, from all accounts, is something that stands apart from Miéville's other works as a minimal, stripped down affair. This book was well deserving of the latest round of Hugo Awards, tying with Paolo Bacigalupi's The Windup Girl for the best novel prize.

The City and The City opens with the murder of a woman, which Inspector Tyador Borlú is tasked with investigating. What sets this murder apart is its location in the city state of Besźel. Here, two worlds intersect with one another, two conjoined cities that have long been separated, occupying the same place. The two cities set up a storyline that is highly relevant, as Borlú digs deeper into the crimes that have been committed in order to find the killer, uncovering a vast conspiracy that goes to the very heart of the split of the two cities, and the shadow organization, Breach, that enforces the boundary between the two locations.

The complicated element of The City and The City was this split between the two worlds, and what Miéville has done is nothing short of spectacular: create a profound world, one that touches on some of the most relevant topics in today's society. The book also does what all good speculative fiction stories should do: take a speculative element, and use that to set a story. Science Fiction / Fantasy readers will find that this book utilizes a single speculative element: the split between worlds. A common enough story element, but there's no strange devices, mad science or magic gone bad: visitors from one side to another must take their passport with them, and must learn to 'Unsee' the other side, or they will run up against the Breach, a shadowy organization that steps in when accidental, and intentional breaches occur.

With the backdrop of speculation, Miéville sets his story in motion, and the pursuit of the woman's killer. As Borlú digs deeper into the woman's background, he discovers that her area of study goes to the heart of the separation between the cities, a radical who enflamed nationalists and unificationists on both sides (political groups who sought to unite the two cities) and uncovers a spectacular conspiracy that holds ramifications for both cities.

An underlying strength to this story comes in the world building that Miéville puts together. The cities of Besźel and Ul Qoma recall the nature of places such as Palestine and Israel, East and West Berlins, and Yugoslavia: distinct nations, ethnic groups and political organizations that share the same territory, borders and physical space, but the people's hearts are elsewhere. Here, the separation is a reinforced one, where these societies have been split apart physically. Each city maintains its own culture, architecture, clothing, and languages, and between the two, Ul Qoma represents a modern world, with major foreign investors and trade, while groups in Besźel seek to change their surroundings.

This is where the book is at its strongest: this book is not one that retells the story of real life counterparts, but looks to them for inspiration, while a unique story is crafted around the inspiration that sets the world into motion. Miéville has put together a unique story that takes the bare minimum of speculative elements, while telling a story that is relatable to the modern reader. As such, the book sheds some insights into the mentality of some of the problems of the world: this accomplishes everything that science and fantasy fiction should be doing, and as such, The City and The City succeed wildly.

Miéville's novel is one that slowly unfolds as the story progresses forward. What starts as what appears to be a fairly straight forward murder mystery (abet with strange surroundings) becomes larger as Borlú goes further and further with his case, travelling to Ul Qoma and eventually, committing an act of Breach in the course of his investigation.

The book is not without its flaws, and while the book lives up to much of what it intends to do, I found myself wishing that there was a bit more to some of the elements. Breach, an organization built to separate the two cities, doesn't fully satisfy upon its reveal to the reader, and where there was much discussion about the nature of Breach, and an alternate, third city (Orciny), which never came together as expected, and the unexpected result isn't quite as interesting.

The City and The City is a marvelous book, one that is both fast paced and immersive, a read that I found gripping, rich and easily the one of the best books that I've read all year.

Gothic October

While Science Fiction has long been the genre that I've been most passionate about, I've grown exceedingly fond of the Gothic blend of horror fiction that's out there. When in college, I attended an upper level English course titled Gothic Tradition which reintroduced me to the likes of Washington Irving, Mary Shelly and Edgar Allen Poe, while introducing me to H.P. Lovecraft, Shirley Jackson and others. I've come to view this genre as one that's largely atmospheric, with some astounding stories in it. Earlier this year, while attending ReaderCon, I went to a panel titled New England: At Home to the Unheimlich, which looked to the premise that there is something about New England in particular that has helped to foster some of the best gothic-related stories out there now. Getting out and about during the fall is a good way to see this come to life.

This panel had gotten me thinking about how New England would foster some of this. When I was younger, I remember visiting Boston with my mother, and we had walked through a cemetery, one that dated back to the earliest days of the country, and we saw patterns of dates, usually corresponding to illness and pandemics that occurred at the time. As a result, I've been fascinated by some of the older cemeteries that I often see here in Vermont, dotting the countryside.

The panel at ReaderCon discussed a couple of specific influences: the weather and harsh seasons were - and are - a big influence in the mentality of New England residents. Winters are long, with very short days, long nights, and with clearly defined seasons. The Fall in particular is a wonderful time of year, with a broad range of colors in the hills, leading to bare trees in just a couple of short weeks. Coupled with the geography of the region: mountainous, with numerous small valleys, hollows and forests, the region is one that can be very dark, chilly, prone to fog. Further coupled with a writer's imagination, and the northeast is ripe for setting the fantastic.

Vermont in particular had a number of small cemeteries, and a very hard, rural life from the 18th and 19th centuries. Visiting one of these places, sometimes sparsely maintained, out of operation and crumbling, one will find grave sites that date back to the early days of the nation. In several, I found the resting places of soldiers who served in the American Revolution and Civil War.

Along with the history of gothic / supernatural horror fiction that existed throughout the United States, and with the seasons turning here in the state at the moment, it's a good time to visit a number of these sites. Their existence, small cemeteries, abandoned houses and cold forests, all serve to supplement this feeling in the region.

Cemeteries in particular serve as interesting reminders. While Megan and I walked through one such site, she noted that there was far more emphasis on the reminders of mortality and the fragility of life, especially when compared to their modern counterparts. The careful artwork that is now vanishing from the weather and acid rain is highly symbolic, with doves, willow trees, lambs and crosses representing the end of life, while epitaphs go straight to the point. One such memorable entry that I saw on a grave in Northfield read to the tune of: Don't forget about me. Death is a debt to life, and I have paid mine: it is coming for you.

Similarly, looking at the ages and years in which people had died is revealing. In each cemetery, there were several graves of for children, often from the same family, close in age, with their deaths at similar times - one such family lost six of their children in Barnard. Soldiers from war, and younger men and women had died, while a number of people likewise passed away in their eighties, with very little in between the extremes.

Over the past couple of weekends, and in the upcoming days of October, I've been working on visiting and taking some photographs from some of these cemeteries (and aging homes from the period, when I can find them) which really exemplify the gothic and horror feel of the state. You can see the gallery here.

Stories: All New Tales, Edited by Neil Gaiman and Al Sarrantonio

"...and then what happened?"

This is the question that's asked by Neil Gaiman in his introduction to Stories: All New Tales, which goes to the heart of what should happen with any story. In this collection of nearly thirty stories, the two have assembled an incredible roster of authors to tell some good stories, and ultimately fulfills the purpose of this anthology, to captivate the reader, and to have them continue to turn the pages.

Built on the premise of the notion that stories should be page turners, this anthology differs significantly from other anthologies that I've picked up over the years, and brings together an extremely wide range of tales from every genre. The result is a comparative library of short fiction, putting together a number of genres, themes and perspectives into a single volume. While it's not the best anthology that I own (Robert Silverburg's classic, Science Fiction Hall of Fame, Vol. 1, takes that title), Stories comes very close.

Short fiction seems to be on the rise, with a number of fantastic anthologies published recently: Masked, edited by Lou Anders, Wastelands/Federations/The Living Dead, by John Joseph Adams, the ever present Year's Best Science Fiction edited by Gardner Dozois and The Best Book of Science Fiction, edited by Jonathan Strahan, not to mention the countless small press anthologies and digital magazines, such as Lightspeed Magazine, that have grown more popular. As a result, there seems to be a relative explosion of short fiction out there, and Stories is one of the better collections that I've seen. By structuring the anthology with a broader mission, it stands out because it doesn't fall into any one genre.

Broadening the focus of the anthology also brings out a wide diversity in authors, from inside and outside the typical genre circles. Authors include Joyce Carol Oats, Neil Gaiman, Richard Adams, Jodi Picoult, Michael Swanwick, Peter Straub, Chuck Palahniuk, Jonathan Carroll, Michael Moorcock Elizabeth Hand and Joe Hill, amongst others, which bring together a really neat roster of all-star writers, which goes to help with the quality of said stories. This isn't to say that a themed anthology is lacking because of the intense focus and a more limited range of stories and authors, but what it does allow is for quite a bit more freedom to tell a number of good stories unrestricted of content. As a result, this is one of the few anthologies that I've read cover to cover, rather than reading through a couple of stories piecemeal. Where Stories is a collection that defies genre, it gains some of the best minds from a broad cross section of writers amongst many genres.

There were a number of stories that I really liked: “Fossil Figures”, by Joyce Carol Oats, “Blood”, by Roddy Doyle, “Wildfire in Manhattan” (which, as a couple of other reviewers have noted, would fix exceedingly well with Neil Gaiman’s own American Gods), “The Truth is a Cave in the Black Mountains” by Gaiman, “Juvenal Nyx”, by Walter Mosley, “Weights and Measures” by Jodi Picoult, “Goblin Lake” by Michael Swanwick, “A Life in Fictions” by Kat Howard, “The Therapist” by Jeffrey Deaver, “The Maiden Flight of McCauley’s Bellerephon” by Elizabeth Hand and Joe Hill’s “The Devil on the Staircase”. Michael Moorcock’s title story “Stories” is another that bears mentioning: it’s not one that I particularly liked, but it’s one of the tales that has remained with me since I read the book, and has caused a considerable amount of reflection after the fact.

The end result is a book that easily accomplishes what every storyteller should be doing: telling a good story, one that compels the reader to continue to turn the pages and to see what happens next. For a single author to do to this is a good thing: to get twenty-six excellent stories together that do the same thing is even better, and as a result, Stories is a worthy addition to any library of a speculative fiction fan, or reader in general.

Opposing Viewpoints

And by we, I mean book bloggers, science fiction aficionados and other assorted freelancer writer types. Earlier today, I had an interesting talk with fellow blogger and podcaster Patrick Hester, (@atmfb) where we had an interesting debate about the role that the book blogging community plays within our little world of speculative fiction, authors, conventions and publicists. This had been sparked by several comments on another blog that equated to: I disagree with Author X because of a) politics b) personal attitude or c) religion, etc, which I think is a somewhat ridiculous attitude to have. This tangentially connects to a couple of exchanges that I've had with people in the recent past about the entire purpose of blogging in general, which leads back to the question: why do we do this? And more importantly, how should we do this?

Science fiction and its related genres are akin to commercial art. As such, they tend to be incredibly complicated works that draw upon numerous influences and elements, hopefully in a nice, commercially friendly package that will sell in numerous units to a willing public and make the publisher just a bit wealthier. Over the course of the discussion that Patrick and I had today, we looked at the ways in which people approached books.

One example here was that reader X didn't like Orson Scott Card, because of an opposing political viewpoint that Card has that vilifies homosexuality and equates global warming to a sort of conspiracy. I vehemently disagree with Card on a lot of political issues, but I'm generally curious as to how people associate a writer and their own personal politics with what they write. In some cases, there's quite a bit of clear influence amongst a writer's works. Heinlein looked towards libertarian viewpoints, for example, and so forth (I've just written about this recently, for other examples). While clearly, there are elements of personal belief within every book that any such author writes. However, the privilege of having an opposing viewpoint does not equate condemning the book or an author simply because of someone's personal politics, especially if someone is acting as a reviewer or interviewer for said author. Books should be judged on their merits, not on the author's personal habits.

In the course of our conversation, how then does one avoid reviewing a book without any sort of outside influence? Should a book be able to stand on its own, completely free from its author's beliefs, offensive as they might be to the reviewer? There's a considerable amount of grey area here, and I suspect that there is no good answer to this problem. As a historian, dislike the idea of judgment of past actions, simply because said ideas don't match up completely with my own. (The same goes for music reviewing. Some bands sound amazing on concert, and recorded, but what happens when you find that in reality, they are some of the most annoying, pedantic, irritating people in the world who don't give two seconds thought to their fans or those who care about those who essentially worship them as minor deities? Or the actor/artist/writer who does the same? Certainly, there is an amount of fanboy disappointment when one's idols don't meet up to one's expectations - I've had that happen a lot.)

The duties of a reviewer, interviewer, and critical thinker are to examine said works. I myself tend to be a curious person, and I find myself wishing for more information about the book. What influenced this novel, or sparked this author's imagination to set these words down on paper? This sort of process is not something that happens completely independent of any sort of outside influence, especially in the science fiction genre. It is this sort of core understanding that I believe is essential to the arts: the drive for understanding, not only of the book itself, or merely for entertainment, but because we relish stories. The earliest stories were incredible teaching tools, ones that undertook the task of teaching ethics, demonstrating to others a slightly easier path in the race to the finish. The better stories are the ones that get away with the teaching before you realized something was up, whereas the bad ones simply expound upon their morals until you throw the book away.

Interviews are another topic all together, and it was suggested that during an interview, the conventional topics such as religion and politics should be completely avoided during an interview.  I disagree with that assessment, because such things are often a major influence on a person, especially in the case of speculative fiction. What are the responsibilities of a book blogger, beyond the usual business of product placement? I firmly maintain that any form of information dissemination is a style of journalism, and as such, has the ability to influence opinion, and has a number of responsibilities therein. As Stan Lee said through Peter Parker: “With great power comes responsibility”, and as such, reviewers, interviewers and critics have the responsibility to weed out the bad and point out the notable. They should examine the influences upon the works that they look at, ask questions and consider any and all possibilities. This obviously happens to a varying level of completion and attention, but reviewers should at least consider how their actions benefit a greater audience.

Thus, I believe that ignoring the influences upon a book, no matter what the underlying values are, does a grave disservice to the author and potential readers that follow. This is not to say that there are numerous books out there that are not worth reading, but that evaluating a book based on a few, selected criteria is not an honest look at said book and story. While I disagree with the opinions of Dan Simmons or Orson Scott Card, that doesn't mean that completely ignoring or disregarding will do much better. Reading and attempting to understand such viewpoints is far better, and does not mean that one advocates such positions.

Beyond that, books, like people, have a complicated genesis, and evaluating a book on a single issue or merit belies the complexity and background that any sort of reviewer should be judging a book on. This, I believe is the beauty of our intellect and abilities to communicate. No single person has a monopoly on what is right, and what is wrong. In the grander picture, we really know very little at all, and denying the chance to learn more or to understand is a poor action indeed.

The Sky Isn’t Falling: Science Fiction as a Genre

Lately, it seems like there have been numerous article and opinion pieces on the state of the science fiction genre, as opposed to the fantasy and horror genres, with science fiction losing out to both and declining as a field. More women make up the total readership, and tend to read more towards the fantasy genre, while commercial ready fiction such as True Blood, The Dresden Files and Twilight have pushed their respective genres towards audiences that are highly receptive towards what they have to offer. Speculative fiction as a genre is not going away: rather, it seems to be growing stronger, with more ties towards the literary fields and with a growing readership. Science fiction is not a genre to be counted out, but it is a style of fiction that will need to undergo much thematic change in the future in order to remain relevant to readers.

Science Fiction as a whole is one that covers a wide range when it comes to themes and topics, and simply stating that the genre as a whole is failing is a rather meaningless, if somewhat dramatic statement. To say that people will stop writing about the speculative future is to say that people will stop imagining what will happen next: that is simply not going to happen. Rather, it is more realistic to assume that some of the more traditional stories might go away as our understanding of the world around us changes: this is a natural expectation.

Science Fiction is a genre that acts as a mirror for the present. It acts as a rare opportunity for creators to examine commonplace issues in a way that it relates to the present; viewing current events out of context as a way of examining them from afar. This is something that I don't believe is new or revelatory when it comes to analyzing the genre, but it is something that bears reminding as people attempt to predict the future of the genre as a whole.

The future of science fiction isn't limited to literature.

Amongst other articles that I've heard reiterated most often is the decline in the fiction that is presented in book (or soon, in virtual book) form. While that might be the case, especially compared to the rise of competing genres, science fiction is not limited to the printed page. As technology progresses, new avenues have presented themselves as methods for the genre to thrive. Content-wise, science fiction is a genre that fits very well with any number of video game systems, and the rise of games with larger story arches, such as Mass Effect, Halo, Gears of War and others demonstrate that science fiction has moved forward with interactive stories that have appealed to a very large audience. I don't believe that I've seen a comparable success with the any sort of video game that follows 'high-browed' literature style to tell a dramatic story.

Similarly, while the same isn't true with films, it's very clear that while they don't win awards as consistently as dramatic films, they can still do very, very well when it comes to earning money for their creators and generating a wide following. One doesn't have to look far beyond Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings and Avatar in recent years to realize that people do like science fiction and fantasy in large numbers. Even looking at the critical reception of films such as Inception, Moon, District 9, and Pan's Labyrinth to see that the genres are capable of being far more than 'just' crowd pleasers, but can also act as an introspective on the problems and conflicts that surround us in everyday life, addressing themes on identity and culture, morals and ethics, just to name a scant few.

Speculative fiction hawks have to get away from academic acceptance.

Listening to a piece on NPR the other day, I listened to Margaret Atwood note that it paid to be somewhat cautious when labeling works of fiction. She herself was caught up in a bit of drama when she characterized her works as being speculative fiction, rather than science fiction, characterizing her work as speculative fiction, creating a distinction between the genres, which rubbed numerous science fiction fans the wrong way, prompting a lot of speculation as to the nature of the genre. Reading over numerous book blogs and talking with fellow readers, it's clear that there is a large rift amongst people as to how to accept science fiction.

Science fiction seems to largely be unclaimed by the literary academic fields, dismissed from major awards on numerous grounds. I noted the bitterness in an acquaintance's words that a literary award was left devoid of science fiction and fantasy works, and I have had to wonder there is such attention paid to the status of the genre in these fields as other books have gained considerable attention in the mass media, such as Cormic McCarthy's post-apocalyptic The Road to Lev Grossman's The Magicians, both of which seemed to fall under a more mainstream section of the genre, while enjoying what appears to have been quite a lot of critical and commercial success. At the same time, other books, such as Cherie Priest's Boneshaker, and Scott Lynch's Lies of Locke Lamora seem to have done very well within their speculative genres, if the outcry of fans over the delays in the third book of Lynch's stories and the quick sellout of Priest's sequel novella are anything to go on.

Obviously, labels matter to an extent, but only when it comes to the marketing of said fictions, which makes the complaints about the literary discrimination seem only stranger to me, from both sides of the spectrum. While Atwood's remarks seemed remarkably short sighted for an established storyteller, numerous science fiction novels that line my shelves are ones that I can point to as superior works of literature, groundbreaking even outside of their own genres. Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials was a series that provided some profound philosophical and religious points for me as a high school student, while Ray Bradbury's novel Fahrenheit 451 provided an understanding and appreciation for knowledge that remains with me to this point. The fantastic fiction that is out there provides argument and understanding on par with numerous works of literature, and I heartedly believe that genre snobbery is something that is largely baseless and short sighted.

Despite the labels that are out there, books like The Road and The Year of the Flood demonstrate that there is a leaking out of the genre to other genres, and one doesn't necessarily have to go to the science fiction section of the bookstore to find books that could largely fall within the genre. The label on the back of the book matters very little, and readers should be more aware of what else is out in print, especially as regular fiction catches up to the present. Given that we are increasingly living in a world that is science fictional, it stands to reason that some of that will bleed into our entertainment.

That all being said, the genre has survived for going on a century at this point, often as a crowd-pleasing genre, and one that certainly wouldn’t attract any academic or critical interest at various points in its history.

Fans need to understand that Speculative Fiction is about change... and it is changing.

If there is any one lesson that Science Fiction as its own, self-contained sub genre can impart, it is that the future is going to present a changed reality for all of those who inhabit it. The stories tend to follow how the protagonists can change their world for the better, usually based upon their actions. (This is a broad assumption, but one that I feel is valid) As such, it needs to be understood that the environment that fostered the genre in its earlier, formative days has given way to a world that has been drastically changed by economic, environmental and political events that leaves the current generation of readers with a vastly different understanding of the world as opposed to those who grew up during the Cold War.

Science fiction of the recent past was heavily influenced by world events: a book such as A Canticle for Lebowitz is one that likely could not have been written in the present day, ground breaking as it is. Fiction generally relates to its surrounding cultural contexts: It comes as no surprise that a film such as District 9 would succeed commercially and critically in today's present environment, whereas a film such as Star Wars did the same in the 1970s.

As such, the works within the genre should be expected to change with times, as our understanding of the present (as well as our understanding of technology and the things that surround us) changes. Works of epic space opera such as Isaac Asimov's Foundation Trilogy and some of the minor space arcs such as Timothy Zahn's Conqueror's Trilogy or Ender's Game fit within their own contexts.

A common argument that has been talked about is that the futures presented in the past tended to be optimistic, with people believing that the future held a brighter future for humanity, which in turn translated into works of science fiction. Today, the opposite seems to be true, and as such, the fiction that tends to look backwards towards better days - fantasy - seems to be on the rise. At the same time, the science fiction that seems to be garnering more attention is the dystopia stories: Paolo Bacigalupi's The Windup Girl and assorted stories, Cormic McCarthy's The Road, and the multitudes of zombie novels that predict our demise in the rise of undead and lone libertarians seeking to preserve the American way of life out on their own. In a way, the most successful form of science fiction to come is likely Steampunk, which presents a darker form of science fiction, set in the past, where readers can feel comforted that their current world of advanced technology (or at least medical science) leaves us much better off than in the Victorian world.

Science fiction isn't dying, dead or going anywhere.

I don't believe that this is the case, at all: science fiction is a genre that has been seen to present some utterly fantastic and relevant stories for readers, addressing concerns of the present day in a twisted context. Looking beyond the artificial walls that genre terms provide, it's likely that the stories that we grew up with are likely going to change a bit: the random adventure in a space ship with strange aliens and laser guns might not be quite as common in the wider genre world, but they're likely to be replaced by stories that offer far different visions and interpretations of the future, by simple virtue of being written and created in the present day. 'Real life' is rapidly becoming something out of a science fiction novel, with hand-held computers, global positioning sensors and advances in all sorts of other technologies.

While some of the subject matter is changing, so to is the mediums that we can see the genre, and by this virtue alone, science fiction and fantasy is a genre that is here to stay, simply because it is a resilient genre that can fill numerous forms. Life itself spreads and survives on numbers, so to does the speculative fiction genres, where massive franchises of video games, movies and tie-in fiction enthralled millions of fans each day, generating excitement at the box office, blogs and conventions, where people look to the next really cool thing that they can take in. In its popularity, it is already bleeding into the mainstream consciousness through any number of forms. At this point, do mainstream literary awards matter for the genre as a whole, or signal some form of mainstream acceptance of the genre? I doubt it.

Kirby Krackle and Nerd Rock

There is a growing music scene that I've been hearing more from lately, Nerd Rock. There's been several artists that I've really liked: 'Weird' Al Yankovich, They Might Be Giants, Jonathan Coulton, Paul and Storm, John Anealio, The Decemberists, amongst others. A new find of mine, Seattle-based duo Kirby Krackle, joins this genre with their two albums, their self-titled debut disc (Kirby Krackle, 2009) and their latest release, E for Everyone (2010).

E for Everyone is possibly one of the best examples of Nerd Rock, with a great alternative – rock sound that sounds incredibly polished and energetic, with songs about superheroes, comic books, video games and geek life. Within minutes of finding the band’s name on twitter, I was able to listen to a couple of their songs off of their website, and within minutes, I had both of their albums off of iTunes. Of all of the bands that I’ve listened to, they’re one of the more exciting, with a great sound and some fantastic lyrics.

The album starts off with Vault 101, about the video game Fallout 3, with a good kick, but the really good start comes with On and On, a song about Wolverine from X-Men, and his own struggle with immortality, thanks to his rapid healing. The rest of the album is a fairly diverse grouping of songs that is much better than their first album. Secret Identity is as it sounds (about a guy with a secret identity – it’s not specific to any one superhero), Roll Over feels like a party song that references just about every 1980s cartoon that I can think of, while Henchman follows a character trying to be a henchman for a super villain – asking some good questions: what are their hours, and what can they offer for health insurance? – Ring Capacity opens with a bright sound and looks to Green Lantern for inspiration. Can I Watch You? Is a funky song about Uatu and Take it from Me is about Mega Man. The last three songs on the album, Great Lakes Avengers, Dusty Cartridges and Long Boxes and Going Home are some of the best songs on the album, if not Nerd Rock in general. Great Lakes Avengers is plain fun: a character tries to join the X-Men, Justice League, Fantastic Four, Green Lantern Corps, (amongst others), while trying to avoid the eye of the Great Lakes Avengers, who are apparently a disaster, being some of the worst superheroes of all time. The album turns from lighthearted fun to more serious fair with the light ballad Dusty Cartridges and Long Boxes, a sweet story of a geek in love with a geeky girl. Going Home ends E for Everyone on a great note about the joy of attending a convention, describing it in the best way that I’ve heard: “We're on the road, we're going home/To the place where wild nerds roam/With pretty girls and dudes in capes/Going to cons is our escape.” The sound is chalk-full of energy and feels perfect for blasting over the speakers as one drives over to any given convention. For all of those thinking of attending the upcoming Celebration V or Dragon*Con, this will be a good one to start off with.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqtjJOsLGYs&feature=player_embedded]

Nerd Rock is something that I’ve been looking for, and as I’ve looked, there’s a good variety of material out there. The internet is a good medium for aspiring artists, and in a number of cases, there’s a lot of material that wouldn’t normally work its way through the music industry: as people are able to make music on their own, there seems to be a greater variety of music, which bodes well for the larger geek-community. Artists such as John Anealio and Jonathan Coulton both have had success with their own music, self-released, about various subjects in the speculative fiction genres. Kirby Krackle doesn’t seem to have the same exposure to the fan community, but has gone with their own route, essentially self-publishing their music and selling it through iTunes and their own website, gaining fame in their own circles.

The album succeeds on its own because it’s not a gimmick. Singer-songwriters in general are at their best when they’ve put together a song that they and their audience can get behind and relate to: that’s exactly what Kirby Krackle seems to have done with their two releases, and E for Everyone feels like a refinement over their first album. They’ve found exactly what they want to sing about, and people who will listen to, and they’ve taken off from there. This album exudes confidence, skill and some very good songwriting behind the sound.  The duo, Kyle Stevens and Jim Demonakos, have some serious geek credit with them: Demonakos founded Emerald City ComicCon and has penned a graphic novel and founded a chain of comic book shops in Washington, while Stevens has released six albums with other groups. More importantly though, it sounds like they’re having a good time on stage.

This sub-genre of Nerd Rock is a positive thing for fandom: music is a fantastic venue for telling stories on its own (and Kirby Krackle does this with a couple of songs: Henchmen, Great Lakes Avengers, Dusty Cartridges and Long Boxes and Going Home) but is also a good venue for humor, reflection, and something in the music world for fandom to relate to. The inclusion of science fiction and fantasy elements in songs isn’t a new thing: just look at some of Iron Maiden’s songs for music about Dune, Lord of the Rings, D-Day and quite a bit more, but new artists bring fresh air to fans. I’ve gotten a kick out of a number of songs about some of my favorite things, and a new venue for speculative fiction is a very good thing, because music tells stories differently than prose or video.

The bottom line is: Kirby Krackle is on a roll with E for Everyone, and they’re a band that I hope to hear a lot more from in the coming years. In the meantime, they’ve left me with a fantastic album to listen to over and over.

To A God Unknown, John Steinbeck

One of the latest books that I've read recently is John Steinbeck's To A God Unknown, his second novel, and a recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature. The story, which looks to the Bible, ancient myths, paganism and several other influences, weaves together a story about belief and faith, mixing reality and fantasy in what I would really call a speculative fiction novel.

Set in the 1800s, the book follows the story of the Joseph Wayne, a Vermonter, who yearns to go out west, and receiving the blessing from his father, he does so, only to learn that his father has passed away shortly after he settles in California. At that moment, Wayne believes that his father's spirit and soul has become imbued with the giant oak tree next to the house, and in his own way, be worships the tree. His three brothers move out west to his farm, and for a time, the valley is teeming with life. The brothers come across a rock in a glade, with a stream coming out of it, and discover that it is a sacred place to the Indios. Soon thereafter, Benjy, their youngest, alcoholic brother, is killed in a scuffle by Juanito, one of the farmhands, who vanishes.

One brother, Burton, is a devout Christian, and becomes angry with his brother for his interactions with the oak tree, believing it to be of darker powers at work, which go against his own beliefs. He leaves the farm, but not before killing the tree. This has dire consequences for the valley, which begins to dry up as a drought sets in, which begins to kill the land. More accidents come. Joseph's wife, Elizabeth, falls to her death at the rock, and Joseph and Thomas decide to leave the farm, bringing their cattle to greener pastures. Joseph stays, and is rejoined by Juanito, who convinces Joseph to visit the local priest. When Joseph tries to get the priest to pray for the land, he refuses, and tells Joseph that he is sick, and offers his own help. Joseph returns to the glade to find that the stream coming out of the rock has dried up. When he decides to leave, he gets cut. Inspired, he climbs on top of the rock, cuts his wrists open, sacrificing himself, and soon after, it begins to rain.

I have long been a fan of John Steinbeck, ever since I first read his short novella, Of Mice and Men in Mrs. Page's English class at Harwood Union High School, and I moved on to a number of his other books - Cannery Row, Travels With Charley, The Pearl, The Red Pony, and The Grapes of Wrath - I've long loved the Americana element of his writing, and for me, he is one of the quintessential American writers, one who touches deeply on themes of the country. Recently, I've become interested in reading more of his books, and while browsing through the bookstore, I came across this book, and was interested because at a first glance, it fell squarely within the speculative fiction range, retelling elements of the Bible, older religions and myths to bring about an interesting story. There are a number of pure fantastic elements as well, right down to the last actions of the book, when Joseph dies, and his spirit renews the land from his soul and belief.

I've long believed that stories aren't really defined by their physical story elements - the characters, locations and items that they use - but by the ways in which the characters perceive their environment around them, and use the actions of the story to learn. To A God Unknown is about belief and faith of the strongest type: the intangible, the unknowable, and the impossible. Throughout the story, Joseph is a character that believes strongly in the land and its well being, and perceives of some higher power in ways that are not, to say the least, traditional, and raising the ire of his family and community members. Yet, while reading, Joseph's actions demonstrate that he has the most honest and raw form of belief: he believes in the land, and sees his actions rewarded in any number of ways, and punished in others. For me personally, this was an interesting book because I'm not sold on the concept of God, as proscribed by any number of religious institutions. My beliefs lie somewhere with Josephs: God, or any higher power that escapes definition, is something that is unknowable, intangible and mysterious.

The last pages of the book were by far one of the most important that I read, in almost anything, when Joseph goes to a priest, looking to help save the land. The priest refuses, saying that his job is to ensure the salvation of the human soul, not that of the land, setting up a major divide between the anarchical views that Joseph takes, as opposed to a major institution such as the Catholic Church. In a way, Joseph believes in the entirety of the universe, which felt far more basic and universal than the Church, which looks simply to one of God's (If there is one who created everything) creations for their own benefit. This has never, and still doesn't, sit well with me, and I prefer Joseph's more universal, general view on how the world runs. This falls with a number of other world views, and it's interesting to see this all presented in a novel such as it was. Steinbeck has created a wonderful, fantastic novel with To A God Unknown, and one that has left me thinking far more than I thought it would have.

Splitting the Genres

The Borders Blog for Science Fiction and Fantasy had a post up around wanting to split up Science Fiction and Fantasy stories. It's an interesting discussion, but it misses a lot on the mark about the types of stories that are around in the genre, while also completely missing the entire point about genres in the first place (which makes this really funny for a major bookstore blog), which is to say that genres are purely a marketing tool that are designed to put a certain product into a clearly defined audience: the speculative fiction fan.

Books in a bookstore are marketed based on the elements of the story, and are essentially grouped together based on what the characters experience, rather than the story type. Thus, bookstores are all predicable marketed as Mystery, Speculative Fiction (which is a horrible term that pretty much encompasses... everything in fiction, but really stands for Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror novels), Romance, Literature (upper tier fiction / classics), sometimes Christian Fiction, sometimes poetry (although that's sometimes lumped into classics), sometimes Westerns, and then all the various nonfiction categories, which are arrayed by topic. Beyond the marketing element, genres are essentially meaningless constructions that should have no impact on the reading of the book.

There is not a whole lot that separates the two genres from one another, which makes this argument somewhat confusing. Splitting Science Fiction and Fantasy apart simply because there's a perceived, and false, notion that science fiction authors hate fantasy, is a ridiculous notion, because it's overly simplistic and not something that I think has any bearing on the actual books in the respective genres. From every author that I've ever read, spoken to, or listened to, there is an understanding that fiction is primarily about storytelling and the characters within said stories. Very few authors, I think, will set out specifically to write a book because it will fall within the science fiction genre. They might have a good story that falls specifically within the science fiction or fantasy genre, however, and the distinction is that the stories and the genres themselves aren't uniform blocks of good and bad. It's a pretty shortsighted statement to say that you hate a genre as a whole, simply because it has magic or other fantastic elements in it, or for any other reason. Looking at other genres, it's highly unlikely that you'll find a unified block of writers that like or dislike any other genre within the general fiction heading, and undoubtedly, you will find various groups of authors and fans that dislike certain subgenres within the larger genres.

This past weekend, I attended ReaderCon, and attended a panel around interstitial fiction, which primarily defines the stories that fall within the genres. It was an interesting talk, and largely boiled down to: there are simply some stories that are indefinable, because the stories have elements that move between both genres. There are major, general trends within science fiction and fantasy, especially concerning their outlook on the world, but these are not universal, and ultimately, the definition simply defines where the book is placed in a bookstore. One panel member at the con, Peter Dube, noted: “If there is no pleasure in the text, I won’t read it.”

At the end of the day, it is those two things that define the genre: the buyer, and the bookseller. In general science fiction, fantasy, weird fiction, horror and gothic fiction and all of the others generally appeals to a similar audience, and thus, everything is marketed together, which helps both the buyer and the bookseller get what they want: a good read, and a sale.

Third Class Superhero, Charles Yu

A forthcoming book caught my eye last month: How To Live Safely In A Science Fictional Universe, by Charles Yu. It had a slick cover, and I got my hands on a copy to review. While I was waiting, I did a bit of background research on the author, coming up with only one other work to his name, Third Class Superhero, a collection of short stories. Yu, who was selected by the National Book Foundation as one of the '5 under 35' authors to watch in 2007, and seems to be a promising writer to keep an eye on, demonstrates an exceptional skill throughout Third Class Superhero.

The book is a collection of eleven short stories, each of which covers a broad range of subjects, but each with a very poignant style that goes right to the heart of contemporary and speculative fiction. Reading over the book, there's clearly an edge towards speculative fiction, but if anything, it's the subtle touches and even the style of the prose that pushes the book over the genre edge, allowing Yu to tell a number of stories that are highly relatable in any setting. The title story, Third Class Superhero, is by far my favorite, one that looks to a struggling superhero, something that would fit well in the worlds created for Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog or the UK show No Heroics. It's a story that's singularly human, demonstrating the temptations and dreams of the more average, overshadowed by others who are more skilled. A couple of other stories, such as 401k, and Man of Quiet Desperation Goes on Short Vacation look to some of the problems in a modern, commercial world, where we are so connected with everybody, but so alone at the same time.

What struck me far more, however, was not necessarily the content of the stories, but the style in which they were laid out. Thinking back to the stories that I read, the only word that can adequately sum up the books is 'Surreal', something that seems to be incredibly difficult to accomplish for any writer. Moreover, where it's difficult to get subject matter across in such a fashion, the presentation itself is generally difficult to accomplish, and Yu manages to accomplish both excellently, using the stories, characters and content in most of the book to specific methods where tailored towards specific ways in which the story was written, by changing the tense and even physical appearance of the story to suit his needs. The result is content and the physical delivery of the content that go towards approaching specific themes that the writer is trying to convey to the reader.

What Yu does here is what every story, (long or short) should be doing: presenting a problem, in a fictional setting, that allows for someone to relate to and examine said problem outside of the regular contexts. This way, they can come across avenues of thought that might be different with the differing contexts. Allegory comes in any number of means, and I’ve often thought that the science or speculative fiction genres offer one of the more unique ways for people to address problems that they face, either with major, global events, of intensely personal ones that they might otherwise not see an answer to.

The result is a very good collection of short stories, and the praise that Yu has received for already, with only a Third Class Superhero under his belt is very noteworthy indeed. The stories themselves were very interesting - if a bit on the pretentious side of things - and go very much to the heart of critical and contemporary literature. In anything, the series of stories, plus Yu's approach to speculative fiction (subtle, pointed elements, supporting the story, rather than the other way around) leave me very excited to see what's in store for his upcoming How To Live Safely In A Science Fictional Universe in September.

Ship Breaker, by Paolo Bacigalupi

Last year, I was totally blown away by Paolo Bacigalupi's debut novel, The Windup Girl, which has since gone on to win a Nebula, is in the running for a Hugo award later this year and was named as one of Time Magazine's top ten books of the year. The book certainly deserves that attention, and Bacigalupi has rapidly established himself as a rising star in the genre, already with the Theodore Sturgeon award for his short story The Calorie Man in 2006, as well as several Hugo and Nebula nominations for The Calorie Man and The People of Sand and Slag. It comes as no surprise, then, that Ship Breaker, his first foray into Young Adult fiction, is a high quality and fast paced novel, one that is both thought provoking and exciting to the reader.

Set at some point in the indeterminate future, Ship Breaker could easily fit into the worlds that have been established in Bacigalupi's other stories. The age of cheap energy has ended, and the consequences of that time have caught up to civilization. Global warming has caused the oceans to rise and society's boundaries to shift. In the former Gulf Coast region, Nailer Lopez is a Ship Breaker, a young man who is part of a team that goes onboard abandoned and decaying oil tankers and transport ships, stripping them of their wiring and anything of value, which is then turned into a sort of company boss, who sells them to someone else. The citizens in this region are an indentured workforce, unable to move away or to seek out a better life.

For Nailer, his prospects shift dramatically when a major storm (nicknamed a ‘City Killer’, something akin to Katrina, most likely), comes through the area, blowing to shore an advanced clipper ship, one with the daughter of a wealthy company owner onboard. Nailer must navigate through a complicated set of events, each of which can fundamentally change his life for better or worse. Throughout the story, he is faced with choices: to take a monumental risk and hope for something better to happen because of it, or act on his instincts, preserving what is familiar. This is a theme that permeates the book throughout, and for that reason, it’s a solid addition to the Young Adult market, because of the lessons that can be learned from it.

What truly stands out for Ship Breaker, much like The Windup Girl, is that Bacigalupi’s vision of the future, one that seems firmly rooted in reality, transposing current issues into the future. Ironically, I picked up this book around the same time as the ongoing Deepwater Horizon explosion and read it during the resulting oil spill that has since contaminated much of the Gulf in the past five weeks. With that in the back of my mind, it’s clear that Bacigalupi has a point throughout his stories: we need to care for our environment, and his biopunk stories (including the fantastic People of Sand and Slag) really look to this theme.

Like The Windup Girl, this story also integrates a fantastic cast of characters into the environment that he’s put together. Nailer is highly relatable for a protagonist, someone caught in the middle of a vast number of changes outside of his control, and provides a very heroic figure throughout, but one who is tortured by his choices, such as his relationship with his abusive and violent father, and some of his fellow workers. ‘Lucky Girl’, or Nita, plays a sort of damsel in distress, whom Nailer discovers after the storm. Tool is a ‘half-man’, a bioengineered guard, composed of human and canine DNA , who’s broken away from his genetic programming to assist Nailer. All of these elements blend together in a notable book, one that is likely to really win awards.

What struck me the most, however, is the detail and care that has been put into the world-building of this future. While the plot left me wanting a bit more (and keeping in mind that this was a YA novel), what left me far more interested in finishing was the society and issues that Bacigalupi has put into the story. There’s a major stratification of society between the rich and poor, with major industrial powers rising, and with people looking to survive off of whatever they can find. There’s an immense amount of relevant commentary within this book, even though at points, I found the plot to be somewhat predictable. Despite that, it’s certainly far superior to most YA novels that I’ve read recently, and it’s certainly something that will bring more attention to Mr. Bacigalupi.

In the end, Ship Breaker is an exciting and rewarding read, one that is good, and should bring new messages and meanings to a variety of age groups, whether it is to the young adult demographic or to adult speculative fiction readers. Bacigalupi presents, once again, a frightening vision of the future, one that seems very likely to me. While I did not feel that it’s up to the same caliber as The Windup Girl, it stands very well on its own, and leaves me wanting much more from Bacigalupi’s world.

Don't Panic! It's Geek Pride Day!

Today, May 25th, is Geek Pride Day. Marking the anniversary of the first Star Wars film release in 1977, the day also coincides with 'Towel Day' to commemorate the passing of Douglas Adams back in 2001, as well as the Glorious 25th of May, for fans of Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels. Overall, while a tongue-in-cheek holiday to commemorate all things nerd, it's a good time to sit back and realize the very real importance of 'geek' and 'nerd' values.

I have long called myself a geek, and it's something that I've written about, and looked at frequently. I've never really gotten the negative connotations of that label: I had my geekier side in High School, that all important time when social stereotypes are defining, and unlike some of my friends, I never had a difficult time with it - Harwood was pretty small, very accepting, and one of my favorite English classes taught Ray Bradbury and Stanislaw Lem. I worked and spent a lot of my spare time in the library, reading away at the extensive Star Wars backlog, before discovering that the library had an extensive collection of science fiction classics. Things were only compounded, when I met several friends at Camp, where I was introduced to such things as Monty Python and Dungeons and Dragons. College brought much of the same, and geeky pursuits have been a common mainstay and interest with my life thus far.

The trick comes with reconciling the vast interests that seems to encompass the 'Geek/Nerd' type of person. Star Wars, Star Trek, Monty Python, Shakespeare, Gothic Literature, Sherlock Holmes, Twilight Imperium, Spiderman, Pirates, Ninjas, The Decemberists, NASA, Narnia, Harry Potter, and so much more all are common interests from most of my friends, sometimes, the same person. Unlike any one field, geeks tend to have an extremely wide range of interests, and while not everyone likes every single element, or just a single one. Reconciling the wide range of franchises and interests that most geeks partake in is close to impossible, where the interests lie with just about everything. A geek, in the larger sense of the word, is essentially someone with a dedicated interest in something - an expert, master, obsessive.

I believe that the speculative fiction genre, which is a sort of umbrella for SciFi, Fantasy, Horror, Gothic and Weird fictions, appeals particularly to geeks because of the immersive and encompassing nature of some of the content. Science Fiction, when done properly, can be literary, scientific, heroic and interesting, all at the same time. There's deep roots to the genre, going back to mythology, but as time moves on, literary influences and scientific advances add on as time goes on. Even when franchises such as Star Wars and Star Trek pop up (not to mention things like Babylon 5, Battlestar Galactica, Farscape, Stargate, etc), the longer storylines, characters and events add in a lot of information to be gone over.

The genre also is one of the rare ones that really translate well over various mediums. Fiction, non-fiction, comic books and graphic novels makes up a lot of the paper content, but video games, films, television shows, online shorts and web comics come across extremely well. The cultural additions that things such as Star Trek and Star Wars have contributed are astounding. Even if someone's never seen the films, they'll generally recognize the Vulcan hand gesture, or the deep breathing of Darth Vader.

There’s a hidden set of values within this sort of interest on the part of geeks. While geek interests been characterized as childish, foolish, a waste of time and so forth, like trying to nail down the definition of the social type, geek values transcend the content, and go more towards the method. There are some exceptions here, especially if one can make a career or living out of what they like to do. Geeks are attentive to detail, and this is a good thing. While the Science Fiction and Fantasy genres are largely passed over by academia, many of the lessons that the traditional mainstays of literature and fiction can be taught with science fiction book. As a student, I was often bored by some of the readings that were assigned: I couldn’t see any practical value in Hawthorne’s The Scarlett Letter, but when it came to Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, the lessons were something that I still value today. The same is most likely true with others. Where people, especially geeks, might be uninterested in one thing, their focus and obsession with what they are interested in is something that can be used as a teaching tool. Some of the biggest industry leaders are geeks, because of their attention to detail, intelligence and vision.

These are good things. A population that is ready, willing and interested in learning is something that is invaluable in today’s society. In a time when there is a perception of apathy with today’s youth when it comes to learning, the right avenues need to be sought out and used, encouraged and nurtured. I firmly believe that my ability and interest to read is one of the key foundations of how I perceive and approach the world. Should I ever have children, they’ll be fed a diet of all sorts of foundations of literature, going back to the Greeks. While I’ve had people question why I’ve read hundreds of Star Wars books, keep hundreds of books in my apartment, and why I’m constantly reading or watching a television show, I point to how these things spark new interests, thoughts, ideas, concepts and so forth, in my mind.

Moreover, the geeks of today are curious, questioning. Science Fiction often is associated with the question: “What If?”, something that is incredibly important in all walks of life. Without that question, humanity never would have crossed the oceans, travelled to the moon or examined something that they weren’t sure about. This, combined with a good education, is something that can be learned from the Geek community.

Plus, Geeks are just damn cool. So, today, on Geek Pride Day, be nice to your friendly, neighborhood geek. In all likelihood, they have some thoughts on world domination, and I can tell you, the high school bullies of the world won’t fare well.

EN420: Gothic Tradition

Last night, after work, I drove over to Berlin, to Wonder Cards and Comics, where I was able to indulge in a bit of a pastime that I haven't kept up on: comic books. In particular, I picked up a trio of Hellboy one-shots: In the Chapel of Moloch, The Bride of Hell and Hellboy In Mexico. Hellboy's been a longtime favorite of mine. It's not a book that I read obsessively, but when I begin thinking that I need to get back into comics, it's the one series that I make sure to catch up on. It doesn't help that I met Mike Mingola a couple of weeks ago at Boston Comic Con.

Reading through the comics that I picked up yesterday, I was reminded of one of the college courses that I consider one of my best, more formative and interesting while in college: EN 420, Gothic Tradition. Taught my F. Brett Cox, Gothic Tradition was a class that I never intended to take, but proved to be one of the few courses that I draw upon, years after I've taken it. The course's content, looking at the literary history and themes behind one of the earlier roots of the modern speculative fiction genre, provided a heavy basis for my understanding of what I've come to read an enjoy.

The course was a surprise to me, because while in college, I had desperately hoped to get into a similar class on Science Fiction literature, which had filled up. A friend of mine had taken the last slot (and ultimately dropped the course a week in), and when the next semester came up, Dr. Cox began to teach Gothic Tradition, the next class in his rotation. While I'm still somewhat annoyed that I never got into the course, I'm ultimately very thankful to have taken it. Over the course of the seminar, it rapidly became my favorite, looking at a wide range of works, from John Keat's La Belle Dame Sans Merci to Bram Stoker's Dracula and Mary Shelly's Frankenstein, but also up to more modern works of horror, such as the works of H.P. Lovecraft and William Falkner, up to Stephen King. It's a class that I wish that at times, I wish that I could take again, or more similar classes in literature theory.

Mainly, the course helped to instill an appreciation for not only the story, but the history and events that lead to different stories, and in a very real sense, helped to define my interests in the science fiction genre and history together, something that I frequently read and write about. Taken in that context, I largely see Gothic literature as a precursor to the modern day science fiction and fantasy genres, with supernatural or speculative elements ingrained into a story, helping to form a larger basis for fiction in general, and sparking the imagination. To quote one of the branding exercises of the then SciFi channel, Imagination Lives. This is one of the fundamental points of entertainment, where imagination spurs on entertainment, and as such, makes the speculative fiction genre one of the strongest in terms of literary value, variety and following.

Picking up my Hellboy comics yesterday afternoon, I was struck once again at the elegance and mix of genres within the comic. Of the three, my favorite was In the Chapel of Moloch, which sees the titular character, Hellboy, in Southern Portugal, helping a man who has lost track of a partner in an abandoned Church, now inhabited by a demon, who takes control of the artist inside, helping to inspire him, but sapping his life away. The comic is a rich blend of pulp, gothic and horror literature, complete with some fantastic artwork, and a story that draws upon a number of different sources. As such, Hellboy is a pointed reminder, (as well as several other recent things, such as Anias Mitchell's Hadestown and Josh Ritter's So Runs The World Away) at the influences of works written three hundred years ago. It goes to show that there is still a fascination with the unknown, the macabre, decay and fragility of mankind in all that we create.

The history and background of the genres is something that is extremely interesting, and the study of it, and the underlying literary theory helps to provide a good look at the present day, showing how the modern works of science fiction and fantasy have been influenced and formed. As I've learned, art is formed in the context of its surroundings, and in this instance, literature is no different, with the past shaping the present environment. In addition to a better understanding of what we read, watch and consume, it's also a good way to read some truely outstanding, fantastic and interesting stories.

Review: Karin Lowachee's The Gaslight Dogs

In the summer of 2002, my friend Sam Gallagher passed me a copy of a book that he had just read, Warchild, by Karin Lowachee, which I read through quickly, and really enjoyed - I blew through the next two books in the trilogy, Burndive and Cagebird, both of which were fun reads, but nothing that really inspired me like the first one. I ended up buying a couple of copies of the book, passing one along to a college friend who shared a mutual interest in science fiction books. Then, Karin fell off the map, and for a while, I wondered if the Warchild trilogy had been a fluke. It had won a number of nominations, and it would have seemed that Lowachee was going to become one of those bigger names in the Science Fiction genre.

Karin is back this year, after a multiple year break, with The Gaslight Dogs, a fantasy/historical novel that is the first of a proposed trilogy set in an interesting new world. Captured after murdering a Kabwi soldier, a spiritwalker named Sjennonirk is compelled to teach her people's abilities to an officer in the southern people's army - Captain Jarrett Fawle, the son of a prominent general. The Fawle family has some secrets, and as events transpire, the younger Fawle carries the same abilities that Sjenn carries: the ability to contain part of one's more wild side or spirit into a physical manifestation - The Dog.

Over the course of this story, Sjenn, the reluctant prisoner and teacher demonstrates and teaches Jarrett about these specific abilities, something that his father intends to wield as a sort of weapon within his army. Over the course of the story comes with it a twisted plot of familial history and drama, multi-cultural issues and the central issue of the responsibilities of power. Lowachee puts together an interesting tale that is in need of its follow up novels, with a compelling world and characters to go along with it.

We've seen both with Lowachee's books: a strong sense for building worlds permeated her Warchild novels, creating a plausible space culture, in all of its different facets. The same carries over very well with the change of genre here, where Inuit culture and the historical conquest of the North American continent really informs the world that has been set up. If anything, the novel provides a great change in venue away from the typical European settings in which most fantasy novels seem to be laid down in. Lowachee deserves praise for adapting the historical elements of real life into her fictional novel so seamlessly.

One of the main elements that really stands out for me is just how stripped down and stark this novel feels for a sort of speculative fiction entry: Karin uses her magic sparingly, pushing to the roots of what are likely mythological or other stories in the real world, but leaving the magic for specific instances: The Calling of the Dog, for example, is one of the few instances in which magic or supernatural forces are at work here, and honestly, the book works much better for those efforts: it feels, as a whole, far more realistic.

The sparse use of magic provides the backdrop for some of the more pressing matters in the book: the characters. Sjenn, General and Captain Fawle and the numerous supporting characters that appear throughout the book, each with their own motivations and objectives, which play out over the book. Sjenn is attempting to figure out her surroundings and get back to her people (although only slightly, which confused me a little), Jarrett is torn between his duty between his family and military duties, while General Fawle seems to be bent on acquiring power, no matter what is in his way.

There’s clearly a good sense here that characters really make the story here, and for the most part, that’s true. There were times when character reactions felt a bit forced (Jarrett’s drinking/rebelling against his father) and character actions were a bit unclear, and there were points where a character simply vanished for most of the book. A glossary / character list would have been a bit helpful, but those are superficial matters.

The Gaslight Dogs represents a solid comeback for Lowachee and her fantastic prose. It’s been a very long wait indeed for her books, but not only was it worth it, it was worth it to see that she didn’t try and do something over again, testing new ground and stories, which makes me more interested in a follow up novel.

Blake Charlton's Spellwright

Blake Charlton's Spellwright is a fantastic, entertaining entry into the genre that has been fairly well received throughout the lit world, and for good reason. Charlton has put together a wholly original fantasy novel, changing up a couple of familiar elements, then replacing them in a familiar environment and letting the story go from there.

The story's plot is probably the weak point in the entire package, but to be very honest, that's something that I'm more than fine with - the fantasy story of a learner in school, guided by a mentor is something that's a pretty resilient story, and its something that works well between different books and authors. Spellwright is no copy of Harry Potter, but the similarities in setting would most likely appeal to a lot of people out there. With the opening of the book, a wizard is murdered during a Convocation in Starhaven, a wizard stronghold, setting Nicodemus Weal and his master, Magister Shannon, into a story that has been orchestrated by ancient forces, bent on returning to power. Nicodemus had been thought to be a sort of savior magician, for is abilities as a spell caster. The only issue was that he was afflicted by an inability to spell - Cacography, which makes him dangerous. As Nicodemus's friends are targeted by the killer, he has to uncover the motives behind the murderer, and the prophecy behind him.

There are a couple of elements that really impressed me with this read, primarily the world-building, and Charlton's use of his own personal experiences as subject matter for this book. In this world, Cacography is akin to dyslexia, which Charlton himself is afflicted with, and in a couple of recent interviews, he's talked about how that affected him, and how fantasy literature gave him a sort of path and direction to take. There's a real amount of attention paid here to words, and the magical system that has been invented here is really fantastic, almost like a sort of programming language for magicians. Here, words have power, but like any set of directions, the spells and abilities of magicians depend upon the correct components in order to get the right effect. It makes quite a bit of sense, and it gives Spellwright a very different feel throughout, which sets it apart from similar books.

In particular, Nicodemus as the central character, proves to be an interesting protagonist, as someone who's suffering from a disability, especially when considering how Charlton's magical system has been set up: words, sentences, paragraphs and prose make up the magical effects, and it's quite something to imagine being attacked by words themselves, or imagining the core of existence essentially complicated magic composed of words. The end result, especially for someone who loves books, is thrilling to read about.

The book isn't perfect - there's a little too much repetition, and the last couple of chapters seem like they've been dropped in, with too much showing over telling, but that doesn't really detract from the rest of the book. By the end, it seemed as if I had read through a six hundred word book, rather than a three hundred page book, and at the end, I felt that I wanted quite a lot more out of this world. Spellwright, in a way, is a bit of a tease, considering the world and history that has been set up for it.

This is the other major aspect in which Spellwight shines brightly: the world has been pretty well conceived, with a background history, traditions, societies and magical environment. But, while these sorts of things are good, what's better is that this background information is directly used and impacts the story as a whole, turning it from pretty scenery into a plot point, which is very good for a novel like this, and it more than makes up for the issues that I do have with the book.

I'm very eagerly awaiting for the next installment in the larger story - Charlton's hard at work on book number 2, and that will certainly be something to look out for.

Review: The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms

N.K. Jemisin's debut album, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is a novel that blew me away with its writing and storytelling. Set in a fantasy world where The Three gods have been entrapped with humanity, Jemisin crafts a world that is intricate and delicate, with a complicated set of politics and religions, where the story reaches a crossroads between morality and revenge.

At the dawn of history, the three gods (Nahadoth, Enefa and Itempas) warred against one another. Nahadth, god of the night, was imprisoned, while Enefa, god of Dusk, and creator of all life in the universe, was killed, and Itempas, god of the day, overcame both, and became the supreme ruler. Nahadoth, in punishment, was chained and sent to serve the Arameri, a ruling family that, with the power of a god at their disposal, came to rule the entire world.

Yeine, the story's central character, becomes entangled in this story when she is recalled to the city Sky, the ruling seat of the Arameri family, from which her family had been cast out. Growing up in Darr, a far north kingdom, and whose inhabitants are often regarded as barbarians, Yeine finds that she is in an entirely different world all together, and finds that there are a number of different plans and expectations of her, from both the Arameri family, to which she is the heir to the entire throne, and the imprisoned god Nahadoth and his offspring themselves.

Jemisin creates an extremely strong, well-written character story with The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. Between the incredible amount of world building, political and family structures and intricate plot lines, this story is wonderfully original, intriguing and thought provoking. Yeine's character is something wholly different in the fantasy genre, far from the adventurer or reformer in a fantastic world, she voices her story, with her own confusions and objectives throughout. Pulled into a vicious society and power struggle, Yeine begins to seek out her mother's killer, only to find that that particular story is far more complicated than she imagined.

Over the course of the story, the various characters and their motivations and plotlines begin to merge. Yeine's mother's story is the connection between all of them, from elements of lost love and the actions borne out of desperation, to family obligations that set much of this in order, to the workings of the gods and their struggle to break free from their slavery to the Arameri family. Reaching the end, when the final pieces fall into place, this story resonates with the shear scale of the drama and society that Jemisin has set up.

In the middle of it all is Yeine, who must navigate the various agendas and complete her own journey. At times, it becomes clear that she is merely a pawn in a much larger game, with little choice in the actions that happen around her, especially with the manipulations from the gods and family, but looking deeper, it becomes clear that despite being used on a number of fronts, her saving grace is her character - her own lifetime, experiences and motivations are hers alone: this becomes a large part of the story, and where she surrenders to fate, she becomes a force of her own, quite literally.

This story is set amongst a fantastic, wonderfully thought out world that stands up amongst many other comparable fantasy novels. Too often, the only real innovation comes with the actual land. Here, Jemisin has put together a world that is very complex. The title suggests the world itself, composed of a hundred thousand kingdoms. Of these, only a handful is really looked at, with the city of Sky hovering above. There is a real sense of political struggle between the worlds, with the Arameri family overlooking the organized fiefdoms below, with an enforced peace that seems as if it is ready to break apart.

The Arameri family is in a world apart, far above their subjects, unable to leave their city. Within their own territory, there is a horrifying set of rules and characters as internal politics runs rampant amongst the family, where internal fighting and squabbling turns family members against one another, as they attempt to use the gods in their own favor, ordering them around to carry out their whims.

Still yet is the detailed mythology that is constructed for this novel. Jemisin has really outshone others in this regard, creating a fantastic world with its own creation myths, where the gods walk amongst the people, with all of their own problems and motivations. The caricatures of the gods, especially Nahadoth, are intriguing, loosely based off of Freud’s theories, which in a weird way, makes quite a bit of sense. The portrayal of these gods is what is really interesting, especially with how they interact with the numerous characters that appear in the story. In the end, the story is crafted in such a way that all of their motives and agendas come out organically, as the story unfolds, building up to the end of the story, making this an exceedingly rewarding read, one that proves to be an extremely different sort of fantasy novel. Gone is the sword and sorcery style of fantasy writing. Here, the magic and power is in the society, the politics and the wills of the characters, akin to the way a strong film will rely on its story, rather than the gimmicks that make it look good.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is a well written, conceived and plotted story that is sure to turn a number of heads over the course of the year. The end of the book provides the first words from the follow up novel, The Broken Kingdoms (The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is the first of the Inheritence Trilogy), which is already too far off to bear. This book contained so much in the way of characters, world building and story that it is a relief to see that it will be continued. Hopefully, that will come sooner, rather than later.

The Temptation of Taste

The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. And the Lord God commanded the man, "You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil, for when you eat it, you will surely die." (Genesis 2:15)

So it is said in the Bible, a basic story element: the temptation of mankind and the resulting expulsion from the Garden of Eden. From this point, this element and the imagry of food as a means of temptation has been used in a number of subsequent works, especially within the speculative fiction realm. With this imagery, there is the theme of utopia as something to be gained or lost with the consumption of the food, and is either an element that the protagonist is tempted away from, or something that proves to be an obstacle in the pursuit of utopia.

According to Brave New Worlds: The Oxford Dictionary of Science Fiction, the notion of 'Utopia' comes from Sir Thomas More, although as the Bible demonstrates, it is a concept that certainly predates More's musings on the subject. The Greeks, through their epic story the Odyssey, used the imagery in a couple of instances as Odysseus travelled home from Troy: The encounter with the Lotus Eaters, where three of Odysseus's men ate the Lotus, became addicted and thought nothing of returning home, but their later encounter with Circe on the island of Aeaea is one in which these themes really come out:

"They called her and she came down, unfastened the door, and bade them enter. They, thinking no evil, followed her, all except Eurylochus, who suspected mischief and staid outside. When she had got them into her house, she set them upon benches and seats and mixed them in a mess with cheese, honey, meal and Pramnian wine, but she drugged it with wicked poisons to make them forget their homes, and when they had drunk she turned them into pigs by a stroke of her wand, and shut them up in her pig styes."

In these instances, the men who came under the various substances and spells found that they were pulled away from their journey - the temptation theme at its best, and introduces the idea of going home as a form of Utopia for those far away. Certainly, the soldiers who fought at Troy for ten years would liken their homes to something special, perfect, as a means to get them through the conflict. This would be for a couple of reasons: they were fighting a battle on the part of their home nation, something worth protecting and dying for, and had plenty of motives to return. This makes the theme of their temptation even more important in the larger view of the storyline: they have an incredible amount to lose in their return, and their failure to adhere to their goal demonstrates their weakness in character and desire to return home, intentional or not. Like in the Bible, there is a central moral to the story that the righteous and those who have strong moral fiber will see their goal to the end - the adventures of Odysseus' crew, and later, Adam and Eve, demonstrate this to a fine point.

While Ancient stories have certainly used this element numerous times, a number of modern stories also take on similar imagery, with similar morals. The Grimms Fairy Tales include a story that is no doubt familiar to many: Hansel and Gretel, which sees the two children abandoned to die in the middle of the forest by their evil stepmother. As they attempt to find their way home, they come across a white bird, which delights them and leads them to a house made of bread and sugar. Overcome with hunger, they eat at the house and are invited in by the old woman who lives there, who intends to snare and eat them. Gretel tricks the witch into the oven in her place and escapes home. Once again, the perils of moving away from one's goals, in this instance, being tempted by food while attempting to return home, is used, although in this instance, it is children who are swayed, rather than men.

Coraline is another story that comes to mind, when looking at more recent works. Neil Gaiman's tale sees the young girl Coraline Jones in an unhappy existence with her parents, and upon her discovery of an alternate world, she is enticed with the idea of a better set of alternative parents, who feed her (which brings to mind this imagery of a table full of food being a vehicle for temptation) and show her a life that is very different, but odd. Over the course of the story, Coraline realizes that this existence and its inhabitants have their own motives, and not motives that will benefit her, and the main character struggle is in her fight to return her parents and herself to their proper existence. This is the main part of the appeal of the story, where Coraline must not only determine her true place, but also the value of home. Where other stories have take the notion of home as a set utopian value, Coraline must first determine what her utopia is: home, for all of its flaws, is the place where she is truly loved, and where she belongs.

Similar themes are brought up in Pan's Labyrinth, where the image of a feast tempts away Olivia after she begins her own journey after meeting the Faun in the Labyrinth behind the Spanish outpost. At this point in the story, she has already completed one of the tasks set before her - recovering the key, in her journey towards returning to her mythic home, where she is supposed to be a long lost princess, on a quest to return to her home. When she brings the key to the lair of the Pale Man to retrieve the knife, and overcome with hunger, she eats from the table, and is chased out by the Pale Man, who has eaten other children before her. Once again, the theme of temptation swaying the traveler is brought along, and it harkens back a bit to the Adam and Eve story, where the girl is tempted away (as in Coraline as well) from the true path by a distraction, in this instance, a meal.

On the science fiction side of the house, Paolo Bacigalupi's novel The Windup Girl features in some similar ideas, if on a much greater scale than just the character's actions, but figures far more into the background story in the world that Bachagalupi presents. Agricultural firms have wrecked the world through their actions, attempting to turn their food into a better product, and unwittingly unleash plagues into the world, causing economic collapse and famine across the world. In the pursuit of a Utopia, they have created the opposite, a dystopia-style world where they have strayed from an arguably more righteous path: the preservation of the species.

In all instances, the idea of food is used to sway the protagonist or other characters from their own personal utopias, whether that's their home or the creation of a perfect world, where they are loved, which in and of itself reveals a couple of things: the definition of a Utopia isn't necessarily a paradise that is populated by their desires, but by a single concept: love, either the love of one's parents or one's subjects/compatriots, for their simple existence. In Coraline, Olivia and Hansel/Gretel's case, it's the love of their parents, in Odysseus's, it's his family, and in the instance of the corporations in the Windup Girl, it's the people that they feed.

Their quest for a personal utopia demonstrates that a utopia is something that can be revoked, as Adam and Eve both found, but that one of the basic motivations for one's existence is to seek such a concept - God's placement of a flaming sword at the entrance of Eden demonstrates the struggle to achieve such a goal - otherwise, it stands to reason that the Garden could simply be taken from existence, where the temptation and goal would be gone forever, and thus, become nothing to seek. God did not do this, but he left the Garden in place. Food seems to be the constant in most of these stories (and I'm sure that there's numerous other examples - these were the ones that were immediately familiar to me), because it is, in itself, a symbolic measure - food is something that sustains, but something that rots with time, and is, in effect, a temporary joy when compared to the character's ultimate goal. In all instances, the characters are temped because of their circumstances, where they are desperate to continue onwards. In a way, the scales are tipped against the characters.

When looking at a number of these stories, it's generally the woman who instigates this sort of fall, most likely as a reference to the biblical story - the Greeks had no issue with the men instigating their own downfall, while Gretel was the one who saved her brother. Coraline and Olivia had their own weaknesses and thus were hampered by them, as well as Eve, way back when. There are arguments along this line that this is sexist in all different ways, and while yes, it certainly is when you look at it in one way, but it can also be looked at as opportunity, where the women overcome their newfound trouble and emerge victorious - Coraline recovers her hapless parents, and Olivia ends up in her mythic home (of course, she dies in the process). If anything, the men of these stories come out pretty poorly, and aren't the ones that the story is about - this proves to be an excellent change for strong female protagonists in a story.

This leads to another aspect of this argument, which was the existence of the Tree of Knowledge in the first place, as a sort of test for the characters on their journey. In each case, the characters fail this test, and their quest towards Utopia is jeopardized: Odysseus's soldiers are almost foiled from their return home (although they are killed off in other ways), various children are almost eaten, and so forth. Yet, in their failure, they find new opportunity to prove their character and better themselves by learning from their mistakes and regaining their morals to reach home. Where they fail in each case, this too happens in almost each case.

This impacts story in huge ways - it provides motivation for characters in ways that translate into real life, and provides a way for characters to grow and change with the issues that they face along their respective paths in life. In a number of ways, this specific imagery is used to hearken back to the bible, because it's very basic imagery. The character is hungry, but shouldn't stop - that is certainly something that's fairly easy to relate to, and works for all the reasons outlined above.

The obvious answer to all of this is that it's a moral story presented for the characters as a means to teach a simple and complex lesson to the reader: temptation can often lead to problems for the protagonist, and that their weakness in character must be compensated for by continued hardship and peril in their journey towards their utopia.