Category Archives: Science Fiction

Labor Day Weekend

It was thirty-five years ago this weekend, Labor Day 1978, when I was first exposed to the wonderful world that is “science fiction fandom.” Since then I have always known where I wanted to be for the week of Worldcon (usually Labor Day weekend).

I’ve been thinking about that a lot this weekend because I am not in San Antonio with a few thousand of my closest friends, nor am I terribly optimistic about being in London next year. Since I wasn’t able to get to Chicago last year, or Reno in 2011, or Melbourne in 2010, this is a trend that bothers me greatly.

When I first showed up in Phoenix for IguanaCon II in 1978, I had no idea what I was getting involved with. I had, of course, been ravenously reading science fiction and fantasy (among other things) since early childhood, but had only vaguely heard of “Trekkies”, usually when they were being mocked by the local press. What I found in fandom was a group of people and friends who are fun, diverse, often bizarre, intellectually stimulating, hilarious, inspiring, and inclusive. This was a place where folks like me could get together with other folks like me. This was a world of geeks and nerds who were proud to be geeks and nerds, but it was so, so much more.

When many people think of science fiction conventions (“cons” for short) they think of ComicCon or a Star Trek based convention. While these exist and in fact are some of the biggest conventions of their types, they’re by and large commercial operations run by big corporations. Worldcon and all of the other cons run by fans are smaller, more intimate, non-profit, more diverse, more inclusive, and much more enjoyable. After getting involved in fandom, I ended up being a founding committee member for the ConChord convention, serving on the first five (or six?) committees and being committee chairman for ConChord 2 and ConChord 5.

(It was a long time ago – see Barney Evan’s ConChord history site for actual details that don’t depend on my swiss-cheese-like memory. To show how bad it can get, in looking up the page to get the link in the previous sentence, I did a complete double take in realizing that the still photo on the page that links to the 1990 ConChord 6 video is a picture of me.)

While there are many long-running cons that occur every year across the US and around the world, generally occuring on the same holiday weekend every year (for example, Westercon on the US west coast on the July 4th weekend), and many long-running cons that cater to subgroups of fandom (for example, Ohio Valley Filk Fest around the Halloween weekend), Worldcon is the crown jewel of the conventions run by fandom.

As just one example of what goes on at Worldcon, the Hugo Awards are given out at Worldcon. (They actually start in less than a half-hour and are being livestreamed, so if you’re reading this soon, go to the web site to get the link.) I try to make a point each year to read as many of the nominated novels, short stories, novellas, and novelettes as possible. (This year I reviewed three of the nominated novels here, here, and here – next year I’ll do better!) Then there’s “filking” (which I’ll have to go into in much greater detail some other time), hall costumes, the Masquerade, the art show, the dealer’s room, regency dancing, panels with authors, panels with astronauts and scientists, panels on a zillion different topics, and sitting around schmoozing with good friends that you only get to see every couple of years (usually at Worldcon!).

From 1978 until 1984 I attended all seven Worldcons, in Phoenix, Brighton, Boston, Denver, Chicago, Baltimore, and Los Angeles. From 1985 through 2009 I attended twelve of the twenty-four Worldcons. (Having a family will make some adjustments to your financial priorities.) But only once in that time did I miss Worldcon three consecutive years. The fact that I’ve missed it four years in a row and now have the potential to miss five or more years in a row  is not something that I’m very happy about.

The 2015 Worldcon has just been awarded to Spokane, and in a worst-case scenario for me, even if I can’t get to London next year, I’m going to really try to get to Spokane. In the meantime, it’s time to find (or manufacture) a reason to get to Loncon 3 next year, August 14-18. Five years is too many years in a row to miss being at your favorite place!

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Flash Fiction: Dial “G” For Gamera

Our Holy Overlord of Foul-Mouthed Motivation, Chuck Wendig, has this week suggested (by which I mean he has ordered us at risk of the loss of our immortal souls) to write “1,500 words or so” with another genre mash-up as our seed corn.

Note that there’s a slightly higher word count this week. Note also that this has been done only after I’ve finally gotten some small amount of skill in getting my weekly pieces to actually be “1,000 words or so” instead of “1,000 words or so for really huge values of ‘so’“. Perhaps my ability to hit that goal was a key that Wendig’s inner GLaDOS was waiting for, or maybe he’s just screwing with me. (By which I mean “us”.)

The random number generator kicked out the values of 14 and 18, which gives me the task of doing a mash-up of “Murder Mystery” and “Kaiju“. No sweat! Here’s it is, with extra credit for those who find the Easter Eggs and thanks to Kat for helping me get my Japanese setting correct:

Dial “G” For Gamera

Inspector Noriaki Yuasa came into the break room, his overcoat dripping water all over the cracked linoleum as he hung it up next to the coffee pot. Grabbing a chipped mug, he filled it with caffeine laden sludge before crossing the hallway to the holding rooms.

Through the one-way glass he could see Doctor Saito fidgeting and squirming in the uncomfortable chair. Sitting at the battered steel table he was trying to pretend to read a magazine and occasionally sipping a soda, but he was clearly nervous. Given the circumstances, who wouldn’t be?

As the constant small tremors shook the building, Saito would pause and look around in vain for any way to indicate how strong the shaking was and more importantly, when the next shake was to come. Especially if the temblors were rhythmic and getting stronger.

Yuasa’s assistant, Detective Nobuo Munekawa, came in and silently handed Yuasa a folder. Yuasa flipped it open and quickly scanned the contents, a handful of hastily typed notes and some sort of printouts from the lab equipment downstairs. The detailed scientific results would be critical later when the trial began, but for now Yuasa needed to cut to the chase. It only took a second to find what he needed under “Cause of Death”.

Handing the folder back to Munekawa, Yuasa asked, “Did you read it?”

“Yes, Inspector, I did. It’s just as you thought.”

“What is the status of our other problem tonight?” the Inspector asked.

“The situation has not changed since earlier this evening,” Munekawa said. “The Army continues to track and engage, but the attack has moved away from us and it’s not something we have to worry about right now.”

“Very well. Please observe the interrogation from here and we will review the outcome later.” Yuasa opened the interrogation room door and went in to face Saito.

Saito jerked to his feet, startled, when Yuasa opened the door. Yuasa was tired as he walked to the table and pulled out the chair opposite Saito. As he set his coffee down he motioned for Saito to take his seat again.

Saito sat, but he could not hold his silence. “Do you have any word of my wife? Where is Kasumi? What is happening? Is she hurt? Is our home destroyed? What is happening with the monster?” Only when Yuasa held up his hand as if stopping traffic did Saito stop his stream of questions.

“The destruction is very bad,” Yuasa said. “As I’m sure you know, the beast came out of Tokyo Bay and took flight, landing at Haneda Airport. From there it began to march into Ōta, and there has been very extensive destruction.”

“Why are we here then?” Saito asked, his voice rising in panic. “Aren’t we in danger of being killed by the monster? We have to get away! Can’t you feel that? The ground is shaking and it is getting nearer! We have to run while we can!” Saito started to rise and head toward the door in a rush.

Despite his exhaustion, Yuasa rose just as quickly and put his hand on Saito’s shoulder, stopping him from reaching the door. He pointed back to the chair on the far side of the table and silently indicated that Saito should return to it. Saito slowly did as he was told, all the while looking around wildly at every vibration or shudder of the building.

“I assure you, we are safe here for the moment, Doctor Saito. Before we leave we must first discuss your call to this office earlier this afternoon.”

Saito’s head snapped around to look at Yuasa.

“What of my wife, Kasumi? Is she hurt?”

“Doctor Saito, can you tell me again why you called us?”

“I am concerned about my wife, you idiot. She was at home when the monster started attacking the city and our neighborhood was one of the first to be attacked. She called me in a panic to ask what she should do. While I was talking to her the line went dead. You can only imagine what I have been thinking for the past six hours.”

“Where were you when she called?”

“I was at the hospital where I work, Kawasakikyodo.”

“Why were you not with her at home? The hospital said that you were not scheduled to be on duty today.”

“This is foolishness, we are wasting time! I went to the hospital to assist with casualties when news came of the monster moving toward the city. Why are we talking about me instead of my wife? Why aren’t you trying to find her and help her?”

“I am afraid that your wife is dead, Doctor Saito. I wish that I had better news for you.”

“No, it can’t be!” Saito said, his voice now stressed to the extreme. He put his head down in his hands, then suddenly jerked his head up and confronted Yuasa.

“You have to be wrong, how can you know it’s her? There has to be some mistake! There must be thousands of casualties. Maybe you have the identification wrong. If the monster is reducing Tokyo to rubble, how can you have even gotten to her yet? How can this be happening?”

“We believe our identification process to be accurate, Doctor. Can you again confirm for me your address?”

“How stupid can you people be? I have already given you this information several times! We live at 5 Chome-3-1, apartment #717. I must be taken to see this person you believe to be my wife! I will show you that you are wrong.”

“Does your apartment look down on the Anamori Inari Shrine, Doctor?”

“Yes, but we never should have rented there if it has cost my beloved wife her life. The rent was cheaper because of all of the noise from the airport, but it was close to the hospital and Kasumi loved looking down at the shrine from our balcony. Inspector, why are we discussing this? I must insist that we get to a safe place and I demand that you show me my wife’s body immediately!”

“We will not be going anywhere right now, Doctor. I’m sure that the view from your apartment is fine, but it was too dark to tell when I was there. And your wife’s body is right where you left it, on the kitchen floor. Now, can you tell me why you killed her?”

Saito’s eyes grew wide and his face began to turn crimson. Choking, sputtering sounds began to creep out as he became apoplectic. He struggled to rise to his feet before finally sucking in a huge breath and starting to vent all of his rage as he bellowed.

“How dare you? I heard her on the phone as she was dying, in terror as our home was being crushed around her by a monster! I saw on the television as my neighborhood was destroyed, everything burning and in ruins! I called the police for help and instead of trying to find her when she might be somewhere injured and in pain, you have the nerve to take me away from my work at the hospital helping others and accuse me of murdering her? What do you mean, ‘when I was there’? How can you have been to someplace that no longer exists? When this is done I will see that every one of you will never is employed as a policeman in this country again!”

Inspector Yuasa sat calmly through the diatribe, waiting for Saito to wind down or pass out. When the big threat had been issued, Yuasa calmly asked, “You are an anesthesiologist. Is that correct, Doctor Saito?”

Taken aback by Yuasa’s calm response to his tirade, Saito’s answer was much quieter than his rant. “Yes, I am. What does that…”

“You are familiar with and have access to methohexital sodium. Is that correct, Doctor Saito?”

“Yes, I do.” Saito sat down heavily in his chair, his shoulders slumped.

“A large overdose of barbiturates was responsible for your wife’s death, not the attack of a monster that destroyed ninety percent of your neighborhood. Civilian casualties have actually been very light, although there has been a great deal of property damage. However, your building was largely untouched. Rescue personnel responsible for evacuating your apartment complex found your wife’s body while they were sweeping the area for survivors. They didn’t even know that you had called to report that she had died ‘when the building collapsed’.

“That would be how we found your wife’s body without waiting to dig through debris and rubble to find her,” the Inspector continued. “You were expecting it to take weeks to find her. You were expecting that we would never do an autopsy since she would ‘obviously’ have died in the attack. It would be your bad luck that the monster chose to crush the shrine across the street and left your building untouched.”

Inspector Yuasa waved to Munekawa and the officers waiting on the other side of the glass. As they came in and began to handcuff Doctor Saito, Yuasa rose to leave.

“I hope you have better luck with the jury than you did with the kaiju, Doctor.”

As the stunned murderer was led away, the faint tremors of monstrously huge footsteps and explosions continued in the distance, heading toward downtown Tokyo.

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I Should Know Better

…than to be reading Mira Grant when there’s a full share of BS about to impact my fan. Why couldn’t I have picked something light & fun to read next?

It’s bad enough being this short on sleep (up at 0330 to get Ronnie to the airport) but even worse is that it makes one not think clearly and prone to doing stupid stuff. So before I fry my brain and/or embarrass myself, have a picture:

20130814-205802.jpg

I was at Dodger Stadium, colder than I had ever been in my life, waiting to start my first full marathon, the 2011 LA Marathon. Run in a raging downpour, I was lucky to finish at all, even with a time of 7:21:18. (Full story some other time.)

Let’s hope tomorrow is better.

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Flash Fiction: The Next Big Thing

This week Chuck Wendig in his benevolent and bounteous wisdom has instructed those of us worshiping at this feet to write “1,000 words or so” on some new kind of “punk” literature. His latest novel, “Under The Empyrean Sky“, invents “cornpunk” (he talks about how that happened here in a guest article on John Scalzi’s “Whatever” blog) and now he wants us to create our own version of punk using something new.

OK, I can do that. It remains to be seen if I can do it well, but here’s “The Next Big Thing”.

The Next Big Thing

She came out of the parking lot onto the sand, almost unnoticed at first from the far end of the lot where her truck was parked where there weren’t any other cars. It was a gray, drizzly, chilly morning where only the most diehard surfers were out in the shallow swells. The ever-present seagulls wheeled overhead though the mist and incipient fog, occasionally landing to fight over a piece of trash.

Slowly and methodically she plodded across the beach toward the high water mark. Each step she took was not so much careful as it was ponderous. Whatever detritus there might be on the sand wasn’t a threat or hazard to her but simply something to be crushed under the massive footpads. Instead of footprints, she left behind her a line of small craters.

By the time she got to the edge of the water, most of the surfers had come in to greet her, curious as to what in the world might be invading their beach. None of them were willing to get too close at first, given the size and weight of the machine standing there.

The figure was over eight feet tall, more or less humanoid, with a giant backpack-like structure in the rear and a smaller matching bulge of some sort jutting out of the front. On both shoulders were lights and video cameras.

At the top of the torso was a large bubble helmet, hinged somewhere in the back and now tilted up and out of the way. A woman’s head was sticking up, intent on a display screen that was mounted on top of the chest plate.

The skin of the monster was smooth and light grey but painted with a garish set of pink & black tiger stripes. A few bundles of wires and tubes could be seen joining sections together and bridging the suit’s joints. As the woman stood with her feet firmly planted she would occasionally squat or twist to reach a joint or connection, fiddling with the assembly, checking her display until she was satisfied.

“What ‘cha doing, dude?” one of the surfers finally hollered.

The woman stopped what she was doing and looked at the surfers, as if their presence was registering with her for the first time. The woman stopped her work and stood to look at the dozen or so surfers.

“I’m not a ‘dude’, dude,” she said with a bit of contempt. “I’m Molly.”

“Sorry, Molly! I can only see the top of your head, no offense, OK?” the surfer called. “I’m Doug, by the way. What is that thing? Is it like that thing in that movie for fighting monsters?”

“Doug, do you only surf or do you dive also?” Molly asked.

“I dive. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Think of this as a set of SCUBA tanks on steroids with a badass attitude.”

“Awesome, Molly! I really like the paint job. Where did you get it? Is this like a secret military weapon or something? Those colors don’t look very stealthy!”

“It’s not military and it’s not a weapon. I made it myself,” Molly said, resuming her examination of the unit’s connections.

“Whoa, you made that? How did you do that? What’s it made of? It looks like it weighs a ton!”

“I printed most of it with a 3-D printer. It’s like a carbon fiber material, not that heavy but very strong.”

“It’s gotta be heavy, look at the big tracks you left behind! It’s like a robot suit, right?” Some of Doug’s friends were starting to move around behind the suit. One of them now had the camera off of his surfboard to take video of Molly and her marvelous machine.

“The foot pads are heavy to help keep me upright, and the machinery in the body of the suit is heavy, mainly life support, power supply, and oxygen tanks. That’s why there’s some hydraulics, to assist with movement. Now, I’m ready to go. Are you done asking questions?”

“Sorry, Molly, you just don’t get to see something like that every day. Where are you going to go?”

“Catalina,” said Molly in a bored, matter of fact tone.

“You’re going to swim to Catalina in that thing? No way! It’ll sink like a rock!”

“I hope so, that’s the plan.”

“You’re nuts!” yelled Dave. “Is it like a super duper diving suit or a mini submarine? Is there an engine or a jet pack in there? How long can you stay underwater with just a couple of tanks of air?”

“Forever. The suit takes oxygen from the water to keep the tanks topped off. Now I really have to get going.”

“Double and triple no way! And this isn’t a military thing? What happens when your batteries die and then you can’t get air? You’re gonna die, lady!”

“Don’t worry, Dave. I put in a RTG, just like the Mars rovers use. It won’t run out of power anytime soon.”

“Yeah, right, whatever! And I suppose you printed that on your computer too! You’re just jerking me around, right? There’s a camera in there and probably in that truck over there and another one someplace else and I’m going to be on TV, right?” asked Dave. He seemed pleased with himself for figuring it out.

“Right. I’ll see you on TV, Dave.” Molly reached up for the suit’s helmet.

“Wait! You’re kidding! What do you call this thing?” Dave yelled.

“It’s just like it says on the truck, Dave.” Molly pointed back to the parking lot. “SCUBApunk.com. It’s going to be the next big thing. Spread the word!”

And with that, Molly swung the unit’s helmet closed and dogged the neck seal closed. Ignoring the surfer’s shouts, she quietly checked a few last readings on the unit’s display. Satisfied at last, with a wave of her arms to make sure that the small crowd knew to get out of the way, Molly walked forward into the surf, slowly submerging as she strolled casually off toward Catalina.

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Final Notes On 2013 Hugo Nominated Novels

My review of “Throne of the Crescent Moon” by Saladin Ahmed is here.

My review of “2312” by Kim Stanley Robinson is here.

My review of “Redshirts: A Novel With Three Codas” by John Scalzi is here.

I want to make a couple of quick notes about the other two novels nominated for the 2013 Hugo Awards.

The other two novels nominated are “Blackout” by Mira Grant (Orbit) and “Captain Vorpatril’s Alliance” by Lois McMaster Bujold (Baen). I have not read either one yet, primarily because they’re both part of a series of books and I haven’t yet read any of the preceding novels either.

Blackout” is the third book in the Newflesh Trilogy, an urban horror story about the world after the zombie apocalypse and the replacement of the traditional news media with social media on steroids. I have started reading “Feed” (on a trip a paperback copy was in my backpack as my non-electronic reading) and it grabbed my attention hard. But time constraints have prevented me from getting back to it yet and on to “Deadline” and “Blackout”. Sorry, Seanan!

Captain Vorpatril’s Alliance” is apparently Book Fourteen of the Vorkosigan Saga. I have not read any of the previous thirteen books, but I know many friends in fandom who are huge fans of the series and of Ms. Bujold. The fact that Ms. Bujold has won six Hugo Awards and three Nebula Awards is a testament to the quality of her writing.

The awards ceremony will be September 1st at LoneStarCon 3. (Final nag, if you want to vote, you can do so online, you have to be an attending or supporting member of the con, and the deadline is on Wednesday, July 31st, at 11:59 PM Central Time.)

Last year, Worldcon in Chicago tried to live stream the Hugo Awards (with John Scalzi as Master of Ceremonies), but the program got cut off by an errant DRM-bot after clips from the Best Theatrical Presentations were shown. LoneStarCon will live stream the ceremony again this year, hopefully with better advance communications with UStream and their bots.

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Review: “Redshirts: A Novel With Three Codas”

The clock continues to tick if you’re planning on voting for this year’s Hugo Awards. The clock runs out at 11:59 PM Central (Texas) time in two days, Wednesday, July 31st. You can vote online, but you need to be an attending or supporting member of LoneStarCon 3 in order to vote.

As is my wont around this time of year I’ve been trying to read all of the nominated novels. My review of “Throne of the Crescent Moon” by Saladin Ahmed is here, and yesterday I reviewed Kim Stanley Robinson’s “2312”. Today I’ll review John Scalzi’s “Redshirts: A Novel With Three Codas” (Tor Books). (As always, I’ll try to avoid any major spoilers for those of you who haven’t read it yet.)

Just so we all know where we stand, full disclosure and all, I’ll make it clear here for those who don’t already know – I am a huge fan of John Scalzi and his writing. I discovered his “Old Man’s War” series a few years back and it’s one of my all-time favorite SF series (and I’ve read a lot of SF and fantasy.) I’ve started reading his other books and I haven’t been disappointed yet. I’ve met him at conventions and book signings.

I discovered his “Whatever” blog about two years ago. Mr. Scalzi’s writing on “Whatever” is one of the key factors behind my decision to start this blog. He takes on some tough subjects there and has a voice as clear, reasonable, and sane as anyone else I see these days, except possibly Paul Krugman. I highly recommend you read “Whatever”.

“Redshirts” (I’ll refer to it by the shorter title) is a standalone novel, not related to any of Mr. Scalzi’s other works.

It is in many respects a comedy, although there are aspects of it that will sneak up on you and possibly leave you in tears. This is a quality that I have often found in the best entertainment (think television shows such as “M*A*S*H” or today’s “Modern Family”) and seeing the same range of emotions brought out in an SF novel is a wonderful experience.

The book’s title and basic premise come from a central meme of Star Trek, particularly the original series from the 60’s. If an away team beams down to an alien planet facing belligerent aliens and a hostile environment, danger all around, phasers set to stun, you’ll always see Kirk in a gold shirt, Spock and another senior officer in blue shirts, and some nameless security dude in a red shirt. Guess who gets eaten by the bug-eyed monster?

Ensign Andrew Dahl has just been assigned to the Universal Union flagship Intrepid. It’s a sweet assignment and he quickly makes friends with a handful of other junior officers who are transferring onto the Intrepid. But they all soon find out that things are odd on board.

Dahl’s in Xenobiology and his lab mates seem to almost magically disappear just before senior officers appear in the lab. Dahl’s new friends all notice that everyone on board is almost obsessed with away teams – and how to avoid them. As they start to put the pieces together, they realize that being picked to go on an away mission is not the dream job they believed it would be when they were at the Academy. As the lowest ranking member of the away team, their life expectancy will be very low.

It quickly also becomes apparent that everyone else already on board has also figured this out. At least, everyone except for the senior officers. But while the existing crew has found coping mechanisms to avoid being picked for an away team, Dahl and his friends decide to try and find out what the hell’s going on and how to change it.

The story grabs you and sucks you in quickly. Since we’re starting with a good chunk of story framework that we’re already familiar with, it doesn’t take long to get our bearings. And then Scalzi starts changing it up and messing around with the characters and the readers. “Meta” is a term I’ve seen used often in describing “Redshirts” and it’s quite appropriate.

But “Redshirts” is much more than meta. It’s very clever in showing us how the various pieces of the puzzle are discovered, how the various threads tie together, and how the problem is ultimately resolved. Scalzi’s style is breezy, witty, and funny. You’ll quickly get quite attached to our plucky protagonists as they try to save their asses and solve the mystery of their existence.

The “novel” portion of “Redshirts” is short for a novel and it’s a quick, fun read. Following that are the three “codas”, smaller stories that are tangential to the main novel, but not a part of it. They each give us a much deeper look into what happens next to one of the relatively minor characters from the “novel” section. And if you’re anything like me, they’ll break your heart.

After 231 pages of snappy repartee, quick comebacks, and raucous adventures, the three codas smacked me right in the feels. It was a very, very good thing.

I most highly recommend you get a copy of “Redshirts” and relish it. I suspect it may be a book you’ll read over and over. When you’re at that next party and someone asks if you’ve read anything good lately, you’ll have an answer.

If I were voting for this year’s Hugo Awards Best Novel, it would probably be a toss-up for me between “2312” and “Redshirts”. In my mind it’s a choice analogous to the Academy Award voting for Best Movie, where the film that was the “deepest” and most “serious” almost always wins over the terribly entertaining movie that made $500M, sold a zillion tickets, and had people seeing it three or four times.

“2312” was deep and serious, but “Redshirts” would have to win my Hugo vote simply because it was just so much fun to read.

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Review: “2312”

First of all, a reminder to any and all of my fannish friends, the deadline for voting for this year’s Hugo Awards is in three days, on July 31st. You need to be an attending or supporting member of LoneStarCon 3 in order to vote. It is highly unlikely that I will be able to attend Worldcon this year, but that hasn’t stopped me from trying to read as many of the nominated stories as possible.

A few weeks ago I wrote about “Throne of the Crescent Moon” by Saladin Ahmed. Today I would like to share with you what I thought after reading “2312” by Kim Stanley Robinson (Orbit Books). (I’ll try to avoid any major spoilers for those of you who haven’t read it yet.)

“2312” follows a series of events across the solar system in a near future which sees mankind divided. On the one hand, Earth is a swollen, rotting cesspit dealing with a population of eleven billion, pollution, and the consequences of climate change. On the other hand, spacers have spread across the solar system to build cities and outposts in almost every possible place, even (or especially) in places that we as readers in the present day wouldn’t believe possible.

The story starts with Swan Er Hong, an artist and free-thinker who we learned has previously been a designer of customized habitats. She lives on Mercury in the planet’s single great city of Terminator. The city constantly travels around the planet on tracks to keep it on the dark side of Mercury, since the heat and radiation from the sun would be extremely lethal.

When Swan’s grandmother Alex dies, Swan is introduced to Jean Genette, a detective from the asteroid settlements. Genette is a “small”, a member of a human subspecies modified to be about half the size of average humans. He indicates that Alex’s death may not have been natural and that Alex had been working with a number of other leaders and leading scientists across the solar system on some very secret project.

Swan then is introduced to Fitz Wahram, a diplomat and leader from Titan. Wahram is a very large man from Titan, his human subspecies having been modified with frog-like genes. Neither Wharam nor Genette will talk about what they and Alex were supposedly involved with, but they both believe that Alex would have left some sort of message or information with Swan.

What follows is a combination of detective mystery, spy thriller, and travelogue. We quickly see that there are indeed malevolent forces at work, but the who, what, how, and why need to be puzzled out.

In the process we get a peek into almost every corner of this bustling solar system. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, the moons of Jupiter, the moons of Saturn, Saturn itself, Saturn’s rings, multiple asteroids and transport vehicles created out of asteroids – all are shown to us in some considerable detail as the story progresses.

The story is told in a unique and interesting fashion, with chapters of third-person narrative (each chapter following one main character or another) interspersed with chapters of “Lists”, “Extracts”, and (in the second half of the book) “Quantum Walks”.

Each of these short chapters (just a couple of pages each) is a different way of giving us information about what is going on in the story. Instead of exposition, we get some no-so-random raw data to start fermenting in our memory. We’re on our own to figure out what it might have to do with the story. It’s a really good way of involving our brain and getting us a head start on what’s coming up.

“Lists” are just what they sound like. For example, “Lists (9)” is two pages of space propulsion systems.

“Extracts” are collections of paragraph-length bits of data on some subject or theme. Each bit starts and stops in mid sentence, like newspaper or magazine clippings cut out at random. Nonetheless, I found it quite effective at getting my thought process primed with new information.

“Quantum Walks” are stream of consciousness exercises from a computer.

As with Robinson’s earlier “Mars Trilogy”, I really enjoyed the detail in which he showed both the technical wonders of this universe and the economic and political realities that went along with it. We get to follow Swan and friends around and be sightseers through the entire solar system. We also get deep into the nitty-gritty of how this messy political and economic balance is maintained.

Earth is deeply dependent on the energy, food, and resources being shipped down from the space colonies. The colonies are still dependent on Earth both for its diverse (if damaged) biosphere and for the effect its gravity has on human longevity. Yet both factions are jealous and distrustful of each other. The average human on Earth is poverty stricken and downtrodden, yearning to leave for the colonies. The average human in the colonies is very well aware of just how dangerous the various space environments are and how fragile their existence is.

While I enjoyed cruising around the solar system and seeing the wondrous sights, I was less satisfied with the thriller and mystery aspects of the story. The plot thickens and various violent events occur, but in the end I had uneasy feelings that there were several important loose ends. For example, we never do get any idea of Alex’s death was natural or a homicide. (I can’t discuss my other unanswered questions further without major spoilers, so if you want to discuss further, please contact me by e-mail.)

Finally, there was one long narrative chapter in the middle of the book that was key for developing the long-term relationship between Swan and Wahram, but I found it to drag on interminably. I thought that the same portion of the story could have been told in half as many pages. That one chapter almost derailed the entire book for me.

If you’ve read Robinson’s “Mars Trilogy” you will recognize his style and it is very tempting to think that “2312” is set in the same universe, just in a slightly different setting and time. I know that for the longest time while reading, I kept looking for points where the two story lines intersected. But while similar, this is not the universe of the “Mars Trilogy”. Same planets, similar time frame, similar tech, similar societies, but different story, characters, and universe.

Robinson’s web site says that “2312” is a standalone novel and not the first novel of a trilogy. That may well be true, and the book does stand on its own, but I can’t help but wonder if some of what I perceived as loose ends weren’t actually plot points to be explored further in another book. But that’s just speculation on my part, possibly brought about by my discomfort with the unanswered questions.

I was really looking forward to reading “2312” and despite the couple of nits that I picked, I was not disappointed. “2312” won this year’s Best Novel Nebula Award in May and it might very well win this year’s Hugo Award in the category next month.

If I were voting, it would probably be a toss-up for me between “2312” and…

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Random Blatherationings For July 14th

OK, that was really weird – I had typed “Random Blatherings” into the title and the spell check doesn’t like “Blatherings”, but just to be even more goofy and stupid I changed it to “Blatherationings” and now it seems fine. “Blatherationings” is really, really a word? Really?

OK, this is either not going at all the way I expected or it’s going exactly as it needs to – or both.

Seventy-six consecutive days and seventy-nine posts into this adventure, brain fried, not in a “writing mood”, realizing that it’s exactly today that I most need to get something written, can’t even do an “Odds & Sods” post because I’ve gotten one half-written already with several follow-ups to previous posts but I need to do some actual research to finish that off; I really should be studying my Spanish numbers for tomorrow night’s quiz; it’s too cloudy to go out and shoot more astrophotos of the moon and/or Venus and/or Saturn tonight; and I think that I’ve finally made this enough of a run-on sentence (which I know that I tend to do and I try to limit it but sometimes it’s just my own thematic style, a work in progress) to really piss off my daughter the English teacher…

…so instead let’s do this. Three rolls of the “I’m feeling lucky” wheel on Google, I’ll spout opinion and bullshit, with luck some of you will read it, with more luck some of you will be moved to make some comment on it, we’ll get a conversation going here, and we’ll call it a night.

Going to a random word generator, my three seed words for Google are “unease”, “ichthyoid”, and “exit”. (This is going to be a disaster.)

Unease – I get the definition of the word at The Free Dictionary website. What this makes me think of first is how boring “The Free Dictionary” is despite its usefulness. It’s better than dictionary.com because you don’t have the ads and so on, but a much better site which I dearly love is The Urban Dictionary (guaranteed NSFW!!).

If you want to be uneasy, just get caught reading The Urban Dictionary at work by a prudish, conservative boss. But if you see some term in the press or on Twitter or FaceBook or whatever and you’re thinking, “Huh! Kids these days! I wonder what that means?” then The Urban Dictionary is the first place to go. Just don’t go if you’re easily shocked.

For example, on the front page of the site you’ll get the “Word of the Day”. The word for July 12th was “lane splitting”, a pretty benign term from the motorcycle world that I’m sure you can all figure out. On the other hand, the word for July 8th was “wub one out”, the definition of which contains a number of words that I can guarantee you my mother has never use or has never heard.

Ichthyoid – and we’re right back to the definition in The Free Dictionary (“a fish or fishlike vertebrate”) and whole page of other definition sources, so let’s page through the Google listings for something more interesting (they’re my rules, I just made them up fifteen minutes ago, I’ll trash them as I see fit!) and look at what’s on the “green ‘l’ in ‘Gooooooooogle'” page.

This is…promising. It’s a YouTube video from April of someone dancing in their living room wearing a blue & yellow “fur suit” to the song “Thrift Shop” by (apparently) Macklemore & Ryan Lewis? (Obviously, rap and contemporary pop are not my strong suit!)

First of all, the fur suit is kind of an anime/furry thing and it’s not bad if she (I’m assuming it’s a “she”) is going to ComicCon or something for some cosplay. (“Cosplay” is another term you can look up on The Urban Dictionary…) Or trying out as a mascot for the high school sports teams. The dance routine doesn’t suck and if she’s doing it impromptu to the song she’s doing a good job. Just recording this and putting it up on YouTube shows she has more guts than I would about that sort of thing.

I just don’t think she understands what “ichthyoid” means when she named her video “Ichthyoid Zombie”. She’s not fish-like – she’s a furry critter with a tail, like an anime fox or raccoon. And most of the zombies I see mentioned (except for Brad Pitt’s) don’t dance, they do more shuffling and stumbling. But perhaps I’m subscribing to an outdated stereotype.

What would really be cool (and this really isn’t a “me” thing) would be if I had an army of followers and readers like John Scalzi or Wil Wheaton. Right now this video has 218 views – if I were one of them, in the morning it would have 21,800 views. Wouldn’t that freak her out? THAT would be cool! C’mon, everyone reading this, go to the link if you haven’t already and get some friends to do it too, let’s see if we can double the view count overnight!!

Exit – so just maybe the “I’m Feeling Lucky” choices on Google are sponsored. This gives me the website for the Syfy show “Exit”, which a brief perusal shows to be a brand new (two full episodes available to watch online now!!) reality-television game show of some sort.

Eeeeeewwww!!!

I would like to give Syfy some love, but I just can’t. I’ve been a huge fan of science fiction and fantasy since childhood. I’ve been a card-carrying SF fan, going to cons, running cons, publishing fanzines, voting for the Hugo Awards, and so on for thirty-five years now.

I hate Syfy.

I never really hated them when they started out as “The Sci-Fi Channel” (not just because “sci-fi” is what mundanes called science fiction to belittle it while “SF” was what the fans called it) showing nothing but constant repeats of really old, really bad “B-movies”. I just didn’t watch them much.

I disliked them when they started making really bad “B-movies” of their own. I know there are some who think that they’ve now gotten so bad that they’re good (i.e., last Friday’s “Sharknado”) but I’ll say it – the Emperor has no clothes. Their programs suck.

And I really started hating them when they started committing a significant chunk of their schedule to showing “wrestling”, as in WWE or WWF or WWsomethingreallyfreakin’stupid.

Why can’t they be showing “Star Trek” re-runs, and “Twilight Zone”, and classic SF movies, and “Outer Limits”, and hell, even “Lost In Space”, “Time Tunnel”, and “Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea”? The worst episode of any of those shows would be better than the crap they have on there now.

And since they have the name “Sci-Fi” or “Syfy” or however they want to market it this year, that’s what a significant portion of the population thinks of when they think of science fiction. They’re taking something I love as wonderful and thoughtful and intellectual and mind expanding and they’re using it as corporate wrapping paper for stale dog turd and old fish guts.

I hate them. Won’t watch. Ever.

There, that was a pretty good rant, right? I guess maybe this idea worked as a blunt force exercise to jump start my muse for the evening. I like it!

And now to study some Spanish numbers. Uno! Dos! Tres! Cuatro! (Insert “Wooly Bully” here.)

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The Power Of Chuck Wendig Commands Me To Write!

He did, really! It was like a voice from Heaven, only it sounded a lot like Animal from the Muppets.

See: NSFW Link Here

I was trying to figure out what I might write about today since the four or five top ideas I had for today are still really draft-ish and require a couple of hours to finish and I’m really tired and I got sucked into watching the hockey game and I don’t really feel like writing now so I saw the link come up on the new blog post on Chuck Wendig’s “Terribleminds” blog and I read it every day so I figured that was a good way to kill time and not be writing and then I read item Number One on the list and then I read item Number Two on the list…

Chuck scares me. So I stopped reading and started writing this.

Actually, one of the other ideas I had kicking around in my head in the middle of the night was that it was time to go to Phase Two of this blog thing and I should write a blog entry about it and that idea dovetails nicely in with Chuck’s threats and bullying sage wisdom and advice. It may not be a burning bush, but it’s pretty close, especially for a card-carrying atheist.

See, here’s the thing. I like to write and I think I’m pretty good at it at an amateur level and I’ve always really wanted to be a pro writer and I get the whole thing about needing to SHUT UP AND DO THE ACTUAL WRITING. The usual excuse for the past forever has been a lack of time, but with my current “employment situation” it would seem that there was a window of time available. But I realized in late April that I really wasn’t taking advantage of that window, so as a way to jump start the process I started this blog.

Now I’ve written something (and I’m having a great time doing it) every day for over seven weeks. I’ve even made a point to write and post something every day when we were traipsing around the country and being busy, busy, busy. I’ve gotten at least a small measure of that “writing discipline” that I was looking for.

(At least I think I have. In that respect, it should be noted that in the pursuit of this “writing” thing I’m probably 100% as clueless and aimlessly wandering as I often feel in the whole “finding a new job” thing, but that rabbit hole gets really deep and self-referential and quite likely pointless, so let’s not go there.)

The past two years I’ve participated in the National Novel Writing Month exercise and gotten some good ideas going. Now they need to be finished, and edited, and re-written. I’ve got notes jotted down for short story ideas going back for years – I’m good at keeping the notes and even adding to them over time, but now it’s time to write the stories.

So now, while I won’t be stopping this blog or my daily posts here at all (still fun, still a source of discipline), it’s time to adjust course just a little bit. I must start writing my “real” stuff first every day and only when I’ve hit my word count on that front come here and “play”. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan!

So my daily posts here may be shorter on some days and there may will be days when I don’t post much at all, expect maybe an update on the word count. Or a brief excerpt from a very early draft. Or a scene from a later draft that I’m really pleased with. Or a quick picture. Or something.

If I’m not doing that, if I’m not keeping you (and the world) up to date on how the “good” writing is going (no matter how horribly the “good” writing might be going), feel free to nudge me, bug me, politely inquire, drop a dime on me with my recovering Catholic guilt complex. I’ll appreciate it in the end.

OK, Mr. Wendig, now can I read items Number Three through Number Fifty?

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Boring Brain Tired

It’s been a very busy, productive day today, but my brain is tired, a bit down, and not very creative. And when the going gets weird, the weird get going, so I will – tomorrow.

Now, it’s time to write something ’cause that’s why this blog exists. To get some writing done, even when my brain doesn’t want to. ESPECIALLY when my brain doesn’t want to. So here, have a picture of…of…of…wait, let me see what I have available quickly on this computer…of a…Kodiak 100!!

IMG_5756_Kodiak_100

 

Who doesn’t love airplane pictures? Sure, that’s better!

Today, among other busy, productive things that I’ve done, I’ve been following the reactions of folks watching HBO’s “Game Of Thrones” without benefit of having read the books in advance.

No spoilers here (we’re behind in watching them using “On Demand” and Ronnie hasn’t read the books, so I don’t want to ruin the “fun”) but it’s been interesting to watch. Probably next week too, at least a bit.

It will leave people waiting anxiously for Season Four.

Gotta get up early tomorrow. One of my favorite things.

That kid in Virginia Beach had better be right about the Kings game being on TV in the bar there tomorrow night, or I will NOT be happy.

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