Archaelogy

Yesterday, I posted a link to political commentary because no blog should be without one.

Well, no blog should be without archeological news--or at least, no blog of mine. So I'm adding Archaeological News to the sidebar.

Irony

You know how when you post, that screen pops up to tell you you're successful? Well, I just posted "Why terrorists look young", and the google ad that popped up was "Flights to Iraq". Hmm.

Why terrorists look young

Bootleg Botox could be a weapon of mass destruction. [Washington Post article, via Mind Hacks]

Sounds like a science fiction story. In fact, this is a problem I often have with reality--it's weirder than my imagination.

Wealth

What is perceived as wealth defines how we pursue it. e.g. If heaven is wealth, we pursue salvation. If wealth is notional (i.e. recorded only in cyberspace) we play the financial markets; we keep score in unreality.

Real wealth creation is not the same as increasing the amount of money.

To go back to the reliable example of a cake, you can be wealthier if the price of the cake increases, but real wealth is increased only if the value of the cake increases, e.g. by being iced or another layer added.

So, is wealth about keeping score (competing) or about creating value?

Ashes to Ashes by Emma Lathen

Ashes to Ashes is Emma Lathen at her best. Sharply observed social commentary supports the mystery. In this novel, the focus is the post-Vatican II changes to Catholic communities in America. John Putnam Thatcher is typically ironic and controlled. Miss Corsa is the perfect secretary. If only banking really were this smart, compassionate and principled.

Politics Off Site

I made the decision early on to keep this blog politics free, but such an interesting subject can't be completely ignored. For an Australian fix of politics I've added Domain to my list of Great Sites.

El Tres de Mayo by Goya

Unforgettable story of war.

Sympathy

Grief is the fiercest dragon,
guardian of memory.
It rips and tears and screams,
sears memory into our hearts.
This is what grief does--
remembers forever our love.

Making Money by Terry Pratchett

Making Money by Terry Pratchett satirises our financial system but resists the temptation of cheap shots. It considers its fantastical underpinnings, the greed of its players and the bottom line reality that our lives are dependent on its continued functioning. Add to that the joy of Pratchett's language and his living, breathing, conniving characters and you have a book to delight in, and re-read. Second read through you'll pick up sly humour you missed the first time.

Beginning with a Bash by Phoebe Atwood Taylor

Beginning with a Bash is the first Phoebe Atwood Taylor mystery I read. It introduced me to the ever-capable Leonidas Witherall, aka "Bill Shakespeare", and the breathless rush of improbable events, the cross social spectrum characters with their distinctive language and accents, and the sense of enjoying a window into a world buried by history. This is America stepping out of Depression, but still wearing its mark in social dislocation, violence and new beginnings. For all that, the story is fun.

Lear-ing Stork

Stork, by Edward Lear

Thanks, once again, to Wikimedia and its contributors.

The Black Eye by Constance and Gwenyth Little

The Black Eye by Constance and Gwenyth Little is a mystery redeemed by being written while the world was at war. Although the mystery is somewhat on the contrived side, the sense of ordinary life impacted by war is well-conveyed.


In reviewing Enchanted Glass by Diana Wynne Jones, I mentioned how the characters in it have lives before and after the book. In The Black Eye the opposite is the case. The characters exist only for the length of the mystery. There is little background shading and precious little suggestion of the future. Is that because it was wartime, a living in the present? I'll have to read some more books by the Little sisters before I decide.

I seldom comment on format, but Rue Morgue Press presented this reprint in an odd tall, wide, thin size that flopped around and was decidedly unhandy to carry anywhere. It also took me a few pages to adjust to reading it.

Grl Novel Contest

Since I don't even own a mobile phone, this is hardly my sort of contest. How would I know the language? However, if you are Australian and have a grl mobile phone, it might be an interesting experience. Certainly in Japan this is the popular form of novel--although their language characters make mobile phone reading easier.

Universal, Aspirational Eve

The caterpillar crawled
from apple leaf to bud
and chewed, contemplative,
before spinning Eve a line.
"See, we're all born to change."
He dangled a moment.

Apple blossom,
green hard fruit.
Sweet crunch, tart juice.
A butterfly's cry.
"Alive! Alive!"

Into the tomb,
mummified.

Poetry as Gift

Continuing the self-indulgent practice of writing about myself...I'm going to post my most recent poem and want to talk about it, first.

I've been thinking of origin myths, especially the Garden of Eden story, for months. A few poems have fallen out of this. At the moment, I'm trying to wrap the idea of serpents as evil because they can shed their skin (memories) and we, humans, can't. In short, arguing that in envy we damn the serpents, but also arguing that to be human is to remember. [Sidenote: Mind Hacks has a round-up of recent work to reduce/eliminate "bad" memories.]

So I've been working away at odd moments, not getting very far, and then, yesterday, a poem wrote itself. The serpent morphed into a caterpillar, and Eve impacted the Ancient Egyptian civilisation, and I just scribbled it down.

I consider such a poem a gift. But it doesn't come from nowhere. An awful lot of thinking must go on behind closed doors in my subconscious.

Writing Horror

Yesterday, I posted my poem, "Leper Rot Away" without any explanation. After all, a poem should stand or fall alone. Shouldn't it?

One of the fascinating aspects of a poetry critique forum is reading poets' explanations of their intention, the poem's context, etc.

"Leper Rot Away" compares Alzheimers to leprosy in the fear it raises, and the way society or the disease itself reduces the identity of the person.

I occasionally write horror, either as short story or poem. "Leper Rot Away" is part of this genre. It takes a fear and pulls out the nightmare distortions of it. The importance of nightmares is that they often have an emotional truth at their heart. Horror is about introducing that element into the daylight world.

Horror stories begin from fear and feed it. Perhaps in being overwhelmed by fear, there is release for the reader. Perhaps horror simply allows readers to explore or experience their fear in a "safe" environment/medium.

Think of ghost stories around a fire. The other effect of horror is to re-inforce group bonds.

Horror is one of the stories (like romance and redemption tales) that we tell each other in our efforts to make sense of the world and find a way through it.

The Luncheon of the Boating Party

Can't think how to describe a character, or bring them to life? Try an old painting. Renoir's people are alive with possibilities.

McMansions aren't necessary

Great design isn't about space--well, it is, but it's not simply a case of more is better. Great design is about how you use space.

Small houses are fascinating, less wasteful of resources, and maybe they even fit our psyches better. After all, when kids make tent houses in the lounge room--draping blankets over chairs and hiding in the "dens"--they don't build mansions. They build places of retreat. Places that wrap around them.

tinyhouses will get you started if you're interested in the small house movement.

Leper Rot Away

Close the gate.
The wire mesh cuts itself,
rights and responsibilities intertwined
and running through, the shock of fear,
electrified defence.

Inside, the path has worn.
Pounded grass still strives to live.
It answers to the sun and rain,
unlike the people blind above.

Blank eyes.
Memories have uncoccooned,
self-consumed, and still they walk
the boundary of their loss,
the fencing of our fear.

Monet's Japanese Bridge

No reproduction does justice to the incredible greeness of the original, the sense of light. An incredible painting.

Mind Hacks

I could be forever linking to posts over at Mind Hacks. The impact of robots on our lives is the theme of 22 January's post. I think the message is "To the bunkers!" Would those be the ones dug by robots? Anyways, excuse my sidetrack. Point is, Mind Hacks is an interesting look at neurosciency stuff, and I'm adding their site to the sidebar here.

The Problem with Reviews

Before buying a book, I often check out its reviews on Amazon. But I strike a problem. It is the bias of self-selection. People who really like a book will put in the effort to review and rate it. People unmoved by the book will (I'm guessing) simply try to forget it. A few, truly offended/enraged people will damn it in a review. My point is, because reviews are optional, I think they're positively slanted.

So how many positive reviews do I have to see before I buy a book? Not sure. But the rare 2 star review, if the reviewer gives a reason, will often stop me buying a book. Atrocious copy editing, plastic fashionable language, a spoiler that reveals something awful are all good reasons to save my money.

Which begs the question (horrible phrase) why am I including reviews on this site?

Because reviews are useful, and just as useful is the hints to other books. If a reviewer has liked three books you like, what are the chances you'll also enjoy the fourth book they review? Probably fairly good. So I hope my reviews bring to light books that are a joy to read.

Foley Poetry Contest

The Foley Poetry Contest is open, now. Submissions by snail mail, not email or fax. Don't sing it to them down the phone.

Plotting Blues

Writing my novel is back on track. A couple of bits and pieces to clear up first, like a regency romance that needs a couple of thousand words before I submit it to Samhain, and an idea crying up to be written for My Weekly's coffee break fiction. However, the important point is that my doubts about the novel's set up have eased.

I like Jane Austen's novels (well, not Mansfield Park) and in that style of driving interest with character relationships, I set up a conflict between the heroine and her father. Then I realised how often this tension is used. Too many urban fantasy heroines are daddy's girls. Whether dad is alive or not, good or not, they are shaped by who he is/was. Still, the evolution of Lyn and her dad's relationship isn't hackneyed, and it supports the overall plot, so I've recovered my enthusiasm.

Amazing how fears of unoriginality daunt creativity.

Kangaroos on Mars

Actually, I just couldn't resist the heading.

Astrobio.net has an interesting article on researching life on Mars by looking at extreme environments on Earth. These include some of my home state's lakes, like Dead Kangaroo Lake (hence the post title).

The Lady with an Ermine

Perhaps my favourite work by da Vinci.

Method of writing

Have you noticed how different styles of work require different work methods? So, writing poetry is pen and paper. A short short story tends to be the same. Novellas and novels are definitely keyboard transfer. Different methods for scraping ideas from the brain. The side effect is the places each is written. Poetry, anywhere. Short stories, curled in a chair. Novels at the desk with no view from the window.

The Sin Eater

He wore black.
So did the woman counting
pennies into his hand.
"Do you take my sin?"
"I eat it," he said,
and she sighed.
A tear ran in the firelight,
another tear.
She reached out to him.
"Let me taste my sin."

Enjoy...

Pygmy possums by John Gould

Yes, I know anyone can look up these images on Wikimedia, but they get lost in the plethora. I'll be posting old art I enjoy.

Always God

Long, long ago, before belief began
the world was born of Love, and by Love claimed.
She smiled with the joy, and cried with the pain
of creation. Long, long ago, She named
Her daughter Teacher, Savior, Guide and Friend
to restless life; and She, equal Love, gave
Her word: to be with life world without end
that life might learn the ways of Love, and grieve
no more, but know itself created for
the whirling dance, the devouring fire.
Long, long ago, the Fire loved and swore
life would know its passionate desire.

Yesterday, today and tomorrow Love,
always and forever ours. She is God.

Comeback by Dick Francis

I've not read Dick Francis before, and probably wouldn't have except for J S Borthwick having one of her characters, Aunt Julia, read and like his books. That small positive inclusion by a cosy mystery writer I like has added an author to my list.

Comeback was an interesting mystery, the world of horse obviously strong and the characters clear. The tension was sufficient to keep me reading. I'll read more of Dick Francis's books, but not because they're must-reads. More because they fill time pleasantly. Still, that's more than you can say of many books. Another plus is that the books are readily available in libraries and cheaply in secondhand stores.

In gardens, look up

Magpie Nest

Seems to me blogs are like magpie nests. Out we go, flapping through our minds, our reading, our web searching and we bring back to our blogs the bright, shiny things. I know I'm posting glittery bits and bobs from my own thoughts as well as the truer gleam of other people's observations, experience and research. Are blogs a coping strategy for making sense of the explosion of information on the web? and ironically, thereby contributing to the info explosion.

"Shake, Rattle and Troll" by Zoe Zygmunt

Go read it at short-story.me. Fun, touching, well-imagined. Urban fantasy without violence.

Cottage garden

Linerias spring up like weeds

Surviving 2 atomic bombs

Tsutomu Yamaguchi, survivor of two atomic bombs, died recently. The Economist's obituary is a must read. Please, God, never again.

Re-reading

I haven't posted a review for a few days. I've been re-reading. Diana Wynne Jone's Enchanted Glass (yes, already), Phoebe Atwood Taylor's The Hollow Chest, The Criminal COD, Punch with Care and Going, Going, Gone.

Re-reading favourite books is wonderful. It's like slipping into a familiar luxurious world, a bit zen-like. Addictive, too.

I've noticed I'm far more likely to re-read fiction than I am non-fiction. I guess non-fiction is a journey of discovery. Once the facts are in my brain, I'm less inclined to want to revisit the words that communicated them. But with fiction, the words build worlds and people and I'm a return visitor.

A Dark Matter, Not God

The dark will close my eyes
sleeting through me
in its pathless expansion
and sustaining my decay.

Do not let me see it.
The dark is secret, silent,
omnipresent
and sustaining my decay.

The dark must close my eyes,
weighed by gravity,
weaving time and entropy
and sustaining my decay.

P G Wodehouse

And related to my last post, a number of P G Wodehouse novels are available free at Project Gutenberg. Why do I mention this? Because I think Wodehouse hysterically funny, and old print copies are hysterically expensive. A small donation and an ecopy seems sensible.

Classic Books--Free! (but goodwill deserves support)

I've recently stopped buying old books. This is partly because of silverfish. Keeping those critters out of shelves is an ongoing war. But the bigger reason is I no longer need panic that old favourites (and yet to be discovered by me old favourites) will vanish.

Girlebooks is a wonderful site making available classic books (with wonderful covers) for ereading. I've yet to buy an ereader, but I'm immensely reassured by sites such as these. When I do buy an ereader, there will be old favourites and new to dive into.

Continuing a series with a new author

The Witches of Karres by James Schmitz is a fantastic book. I like his Telzey and Trigger stories, too, though I haven't read all of them.

Imagine my suspicion when a sequel to The Witches of Karres came out by other authors. Although I like Mercedes Lackey, I had huge doubts.

And I was wrong. The Wizard of Karres is delightful.




Now, there is another sequel on the way, The Sorceress of Karres. Can it continue the magic? I noticed Lackey is no longer one of the co-authors.




Are there other successful series where different authors have picked up the mantle?


Jill Paton Walsh takes up the story of Lord Peter Wimsey from Dorothy Sayers. The style and sensibility changes, but remains good reading.

 Are there others?

And what will happen to the formating of so many cover pics when I post?

Christ in the Sepulchre by William Blake

The previous post made me think of writers who are artists, and William Blake sprang to mind. Without knowing the time he lived and worked in, I'd never guess. He has his own (influential) style.

The Authorial Look

Thanks to ArtDaily I found a link to a display of authors' portraits at Princeton. They're charming and intriguing. I really didn't think Charles Dickens looked as he looks. Strange how fascinating I find these portraits since I generally cringe at the author photos publishers force onto the back page. Maybe it's the charm of yesteryear, or the fact that these portraits are more art than studio shots?

The Habit of Reading

Over at Dear Author Jane raised the perennial topic of reading patterns. Are we reading less? reading in different genres? different formats?

The point that struck me was her mention of category romances for a quick fix of romantic tension and happy ending. I've long treated these books as candy--not much substance, but addictive. Much harder to write than non-romance readers will have you believe. A good category romance is a treasure, a re-read mood sweetener.

G'day

"Galaxy Court Judge" at EverydayPoets.com

My poem's just been pub'd at EverydayPoets, and there are reader comments. I love reader comments. Which, of course, means I should return the favour with comments on other people's poems. Unfortunately, not today. My brain is fried from two days of plus forty degree centigrade temps. I'd offend someone by not "getting" their poem, or by mistyping, or...you can see all the excuses shyness hauls out. I'll comment, soon.

Gardens are Dangerous Renewal

Gulped by a snapdragon -- magenta embalmed --
wriggling, squiggling down the stem
sliding green and gnarling
into roots -- cool, dark, ferny --
to evaporate free, to fumble like fungi
spreading, searching, curling around a seed
shouting its scream of rebirth
shuddering upwards through earth, sky, universe
set free.

Social Status

Generalisations are hellishly slack, but they're also a useful communications tool. A simple generalised statement is heard.

Low social status contributes to poor physical and mental health.

Here's one study, on smoking, that prompted this post. The impact of internalising society's low opinion of you and those you love has long interested me. Beyond impacts of limited choice due to limited income, distance from services, etc there appears to be an issue of self-perception. Are you worth caring about? If you've internalised a negative self-image from society, how can you answer "yes" to that question?

There aren't any easy solutions to this problem. I suspect humans are naturally hierarchical, for one, and being poor commits people to survival, not challenging society's expectations. They just don't have the time and energy to climb up.

It's one of the paradoxes of poverty. It focuses you on the here and now, the current challenge of survival. You don't think of the future. This focus enables survival, but it doesn't enable change (it also allows risky, long term consequence behaviours, such as smoking). That's why path breakers are so essential. They lead people's dreams.

I guess my working rule is to respect everyone. If you don't have time to build, you can at least not tear down.

Mini buying spree

In the last few days I've pre-ordered a couple of books--Trisha Ashley's latest, Chocolate Wishes, and a Gladys Mitchell reprint, Death and the Maiden--and bought Constance and Gwenyth Little's The Black Eye. Laughter, death and mayhem.



Death and the Maiden

Snap!

Beaches are Horizontal Boundaries Where Eternity Seeps In

Here, is the laughter,
the joyous achievement
of sand castles aspire,
ambition displayed.

Here, is the hole,
dug all alone
through the shifting light sand
to the heavy wet grey.

The ocean seeps in.

The hole is refilled
without carrying a drop.

Shock and Awe

I mentioned in an earlier post that "shock and awe" seemed a good description of a numinous encounter, except that it had gained military connotations. Now "shock and awe" is meant to demoralise, to force surrender. But I want "shock and awe" to mean challenge, invitation, a kick from the place you were to the place you could be. I want it to be about possibilities, not power.

However, many years ago I did study Foucault and I know power is everywhere.

A numinous encounter is about confronting a power greater than yourself, and being energised by it. Not energised in the sense of receiving in a passive fashion power from the other, but energised in the sense of experiencing new possibilities in yourself and the world. Isn't this part of the growth journey/quest of the heroine in an urban fantasy? It is a story of accepting more of ourselves, and so achieving more.

Alyogyne huegelii

Charity

Never noticed in the busy room,
the cleaner gathers, mops, carts away
torn and cut, discarded clothes
some to police and some
she takes from the great waste bin
to wash, dry, iron
and cut.

Squares like leaves drowning her chair.
The TV mumuring.
Precise stitches
joining square to square,
making whole
a pattern of loss.

Prisoners sleep beneath donated quilts.

Ghost Train to the Eastern Star by Paul Theroux

Ghost Train to the Eastern Star is a pilgrimmage of farewell. Paul Theroux is following himself thirty years ago. He calls himself a ghost, but his readers are even more ghostly, distanced by his distance. I like travel books which share the writer's experience of people and places in a direct style. In Ghost Train to the Eastern Star, Theroux shares his musings on his experiences. As a reader I felt that as I craned forward to see what he saw, he stepped sideways and I bumped my nose on his back.

The journey is sharply observed, well fleshed out with research, but it has an air of studied renunciation. Theroux will not travel with us into the future. He will wear his trousers rolled.

Sunny Days

Charities

How do you work out where to give your money and time? I can't find any comparisons and analyses of charities online that I trust. I'd have liked to post a link saying, here, want to help? Decide for yourself where your money and time will be most useful.

As it is, I can only say that my charity of choice is Caritas. I like that they minimise overhead costs. And, shamefully, I don't currently volunteer for anything. In the past, my favourite volunteer job was walking dogs for the RSPCA.

Review Etiquette

In the Wednesday round up Dear Author includes a mention of the expectations publishers and authors have of reviewers (the link to Mrs Giggles is interesting).

Um. I always thought a review was a gift, reader to reader with the occasional grateful author thrown in.

When people reviewed my romance novel, Guarded Hearts, I was incredibly grateful that a) they'd read it, and b) they found nice things to say. It was certainly not their "job" to spruik the novel or to hold back on negative criticism--although I'd have cried if anyone was nasty.

http://romancejunkiesreviews.com/artman/publish/contemporary/Guarded_Hearts.shtml
http://longandshortreviews.blogspot.com/2009/03/guarded-hearts-by-jenny-schwartz.html

The Dragon Bride

Short-Story.Me is a new genre short story magazine and its free. Why not subscribe?

My fantasy story, "The Dragon Bride", will be published there in about a month. Be sure, I'll celebrate with a post when it comes out! But there's other great stories out now. Have a look.

The Oxford Book of Short Poems

The Oxford Book of Short Poems has arrived! With great restraint, I waited for the end of the day to dip into it. Found Shelley's "Waning Moon". Had my first glimpse of why so many people have liked his poetry.

The Waning Moon

And like a dying lady, lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapped in a gauzy veil,
Out of her chamber, led by the insane
And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
The moon arose up in the murky East,
A white and shapeless mass.

Summer

Sitting on the back lawn, eating watermelon in the evening shade and spitting the pips into the garden.

Exile

From the seeding of soil microbes
to the trigger of volcanoes
we terraform and warm exile.
Our bodies wake to new rhythms
of Martian seasons, blue shadows
and whirling dust devil danger.
For our new life is made of Mars.
It's in the green cellwalls of plants
and the red blood of our bodies.
It is our new, mythic heaven
where God never walks, never broods
over the waters we've woken.
This is our brave new world, ours alone.

Investment advice from a poor person--you have been warned

I think I've mentioned previously that I read The Economist. I'm interested in the world of business, but not inclined to dip my toe in it--an annoying pub bar expert, that's me.

You don't have to believe me, but I saw the financial crisis coming. I couldn't understand what these credit derivative swaps and similar rubbish were, nor find a clear explanation of them--and talking them up when you can't explain them sounded warning sirens for me. So with typical bearish enthusiasm, I said. "This can't last." Unfortunately, I was right. And I think it'll happen again.

I think the "rescue" of the world economy was shallow and is festering other problems. In Australia, our houses are over-priced and people are struggling financially. Yet we are among the countries reported as having best survived the crisis.

I don't know what will tip us into financial panic again. Maybe an attack on Iran? Maybe a bank collapse? The insurance industry is murky, too, and faced with the calamities of global warming. Anything could happen.

Anything could happen--there's a SF story in there. Writers are opportunists, too.

Old Favorites

Some mystery novels, like Margery Allingham's, seem never to have gone out of print. Others, however, are much harder to come by. I used to haunt second hand book sales, but I have a suspicion that this once rich hunting ground has been picked over by people snatching up cheap books to sell online. Nothing wrong with someone wanting to make a buck--but what about my reading habit?

I comfort myself with the reflection that all good things come to those who wait. One day forgotten classic mysteries will resurge via ereaders. I'm voting for Phoebe Atwood Taylor, R B Dominic (I have all the Emma Lathen books--yay!), Gladys Mitchell, and a ton of others I'm still to discover.

While I wait for this glorious day, I've noticed Rue Morgue Press is reprinting a number of classics. Now all I have to do is scratch up the dollars to buy them, and the new classic mysteries.

Shades of Green

I like photos snatched from the garden.

Maxwell's Revenge by M J Trow

My little whinge the other day about the predominance of series novels was more than a bit unfair. There are any number of series well worth devouring every book. Dana Stabenow's Alaskan mysteries spring to mind, and then, there's the survival-of-the-maddest British high school murders from M J Trow's Maxwell series.

Trow rattles along at a swift pace with humorous references to current and historical events, and an engaging sleuth. Maxwell is sharp, annoying and compassionate. He's a teacher.

In Maxwell's Revenge you might be able to solve the crime well before the book ends, but that doesn't matter. You're enjoying the craziness of British life. Call it satire as much as a murder mystery, the book is a pleasant way to spend an evening with your glass of Southern Comfort (or whatever you prefer) by your side.

Transhuman

Strip me from my body.
I am sick with its soft decay.
Skin erodes to acid etching.
I polish, and blood seeps away.

Where is my shine,
my steel endurance?

I want titanium bones
sheathed in alloy,
not a body of tissue
ridden by ancestors.

I will be
the beginning of unborn life.

What a Neanderthal!

New research shows the well-dressed Neanderthal wore make-up and jewellery. Kind of changes that old cave man insult :)

Checking the Mail

Waiting for the Oxford Book of Short Poems

Deadtown by Nancy Holzner

My heart sank when I read the first few pages of Deadtown. I don't like dream scenes, not even demon infested ones. Fortunately, the action quickly moves to the "real" world--a paranormally enriched Boston--and things become interesting.

The heroine, Vicky, is a neat balance between tough competence and vulnerability. There is romantic tension, political tension and plain "save the day" tension.

Some of the characters are unashamed stereotypes. As I've mentioned in previous posts, I like stereotypes. I think we all use them when we tell ourselves the history of our day. It's when someone steps out of the stereotype we've assigned them that we have the shock of truly encountering that person. In Deadtown, the person who reaches through their stereotype is Gwen, Vicky's sister. In fact, I found the relationship between the sisters the strongest in the book.

Nancy Holzner has created an urban fantasy universe that works. It's rules are consistent. The characters "real". There is potential for conflict at every turn. Perhaps best of all, Vicky's point of view is rendered without resorting to wisecracks or, at the opposite end of the spectrum, angst.

Blogger Tags

I was just cleaning up my profile, making sure I put commas where necessary to separate links, etc when it suddenly struck me how weird it was to tag my life.

Interests, movies, music, books--click on a tag and see other people's matching self-description. Instant connection or white noise? What a strange idea, finding kinship via tags.

Star*Line open to subs

Star*line is only open to subs in January and July, so if you have a SF poem to submit, you'd best hurry with that final polishing. And good luck!

Visiting Europe

The stink of impermance chokes me
as the grand cathedral lies
that it will stand forever,
piercing heaven.

The land that closes round it is broken
by the plough; made young
by blood and terror; by memory
renewed.

I am too old to stand, here,
with my bones of ancient dust
from the country of the Dreaming,
crying for my home.

Serial Reader

It's hard to miss that publishers are pushing series novels. It's particularly weird in cosy mysteries where the intrepid amateur sleuth encounters so many dead bodies over the course of the novels that they ought to be in therapy or otherwise confined for the safety of the community. I imagine that the logic for publishers is that a casual book buyer will be more inclined to pick up an author and character with whom they are already familiar.

I have nothing against series. Terry Pratchett's Discworld is on my automatic to-buy list (although I do try and wait for the paperback--Unseen Academicals pre-ordered for July), I haunt libraries for Margaret Maron's Judge Knott series, and other series, such as Donna Andrew's blacksmithing Meg and her crazy family, I drop in and out of.

However, sometimes a series is just a stretched novel, and then I get cross. Mostly I encounter this cheat when I read fantasy. If an epic sprawls, prune it. I'm ruthless. I won't read Charles Dickens for the same reason. On and on and bloody on. A well-plotted novel should complete itself in one book. It can include teasers for the next book in the series, but as a reader we should be able to close the book with a satisfied sigh.

I've heard Laurie King (whose writing is wonderful) finishes her Language of Bees with a to be continued. How could she? Unfair.

I guess in this post I'm advocating a return to the days when stand alones were acceptable practice within genres. Favourite authors, not favourite serials. New, exciting characters and settings, storylines and adventures with every book.

But then, I'm hugely enjoying the urban fantasy serials by Patricia Briggs and Ilona Andrews. I guess I'm just an unreasonable reader, after all.

The Northbury Papers by Joanne Dobson

I picked up a copy of The Northbury Papers for a dollar from a local secondhand bookstore and read it over the weekend--and thoroughly enjoyed it.
For a second book in a series, there were no problems in picking up characters, setting and events. In fact, and strangely, I'm disinclined to go back and read the first book in the series. The heroine, college professor Karen Pelletier, is changing and growing. I'm on that journey, not delving backwards.

There is a whiff of Barbara Michaels/Elizabeth Peters to the story, think Shattered Silk or the character of librarian/romance writer Jacqueline Kirby. But Dobson writes with more angst and less emphasis on humour and a happy ending. Not that she drops the reader into an unhappy ending.

The plot isn't challenging, but it's jammed with happenings and people. The Northbury Papers is a literary cosy mystery, and I'll be reading more by Dobson.

Snippets

Occasionally a snippet of poetry will insist on being written, but then, despite raving and praying, nothing else arrives. The snippet is consigned to the pages of my notebook, surrounded by scribbles and crossings out. I've been working around this one for months:

Silent lie the dragon bones,
fossilised footprints,
seashells in mountains.

I love the sound, enjoy the images, but I can't shake a full poem out of it.

The $12 Million Stuffed Shark by Don Thompson

The $12 Million Stuffed Shark is a fantastic example of a book that lets you peek inside a rarefied world. Even better is the fact Don Thompson is a sharp observer who strikes a neat balance between observation and subtle commentary. He can see the craziness of the contemporary art world, but he doesn't take cheap shots. However, he also doesn't shy away from making his point.

From the opening pages where he makes this point:

"...while more trivial work does what critics call 'going dead'. The experienced art collector will take a work home before buying it, to look at it several times a day. The question is whether a week or a month hence, after the novelty disappears, the message and the painter's skill will still be apparent." (p.6)

To the closing pages where he punctures the lotto bubble. As ordinary people, art investment is extremely unlikely to make us rich.

In fact, Thompson's insights are remarkably freeing, reinforcing that art is about buying something that enriches your life. For some people, that includes having other people envy them their collection. And the weirdness of that leads to $12 million stuffed sharks!

Disenchanted by romance plots

This post comes out of a category romance I read yesterday. I won't mention names because I'd hate to have my own novels used as examples of annoying genre books, but I have to share my pet peeves when it comes to annoying romance plots.

First is the noble lie. For whatever reason one of the perfect couple (and it's usually the sighing heroine) decides they must lie for the good of all. This lie then keeps the couple apart for the length of the book. Often being solved by a deux machina in time for the requisite happy ending. Bah. Why would you want to be involved with a proven liar who sacrifices your happiness? Those heroes need to wise up and move on.

Second is the heroine who failed toddler school. She never asks "Why?" although a simple, straightforward question would resolve all the plot hiccups. Of course, the novel would be only a chapter long. Call her the self-torturing heroine, or idiot.

Third is the heroine who needs rescuing. I love a gothic romance as much as anyone, but some authors lose their gumption. Instead of sticking with the conventions of a damsel in distress story, they worry that a modern woman should rescue herself. So they pile on trauma after trauma in an effort to show the independent feisty heroine does need the hero's help. Uh, that many traumas and a normal woman would be in hospital. You really can't kiss and make it all better.

There are probably more irritating cliche plots, but these are my current top three. What are yours?

Art

I've decided to add a new category to my posts--art. I'm uneducated in art, but I'm interested and that interest will no doubt spill over into this blog, particularly since I've just signed up for the ArtDaily newsletter.

Enchanted Glass by Diana Wynne Jones

It's here! It's here! And I've read it.

Enchanted Glass is wonderful. I was afraid that it couldn't live up to my months long anticipation, but it has. The challenge is how to review it. All I want to do is shout, Read Enchanted Glass.

It is a contemporary fantasy novel. It has a whiff of fairytale about it. The world is so vivid you feel you can reach through the pages and touch it. If Enchanted Glass the movie came out, I'd understand why: The movie producer couldn't resist the twist of bizarre to our flat world.

One of the themes, it seems to me, is about the lost aspects of ourselves, especially our childhood knowledge, but also how we view the world. There are numinous encounters--and people's blindness to them.

The characters are incredible. Most books treat characters as if they and their lives exist only for the length of the novel's narrative. As if novels are magnified bubbles. In Enchanted Glass the characters have lives before and after and carrying through the events described in the novel. I can't find words to describe the effect, but it's seductive.

Read Enchanted Glass

Everyday Poets

Everyday Poets (you'll see their link on the Great Sites, Wonderful People column to your right) have just gotten back to me on a poem I submitted, "Revelation to the Alien". They have a couple of crits, but I think they like it! Validation is a smiley thing :)

And on January 18, thereabouts, pop over to Everydaypoets and read my poem, "Galaxy Court Judge". Go on.

Buying

Unformed desire
like octopus legs
down alleyways
testing sex and ambition,
knowledge and power;
finding none
and crawling, denuded.

Building identity
in the occupation of things.

When your novel goes stale

I haven't been posting much about my novel. There'd be a reason for that. It's gone stale.

There are three things you can do when thoughts of your novel make you go "blah".

First, check if you've written your way into a blind alley. If you have, then you simply delete all of the wasted side trip and get back on course.

Other times, you've stayed on track but for whatever external to the novel reasons you can't focus. Doesn't matter. Keep writing. The focus will come. Keep writing.

The third option, if your deadline allows it, is to turn to another project. What's the old cliche? A change is as good as a holiday.

Having been distracted over Christmas and returned to my novel with a blah response, I've gone with the third option. I'm revising an old SF novel. It's a substantial revision, pretty much eliminating the weird technology/character I introduced in the second half. This novel is a definite genre crosser. It's SF, a murder mystery and the characters insisted on having a romance--they knew I can't resist a happy ending. The novel is titled Jabberwocky. So if I start muttering Jabber-jabber, I'm not insane. Just preoccupied.

And still my urban fantasy novel waits.

Why do we write?

Like so many others books have helped me through bad times. I hope that in turn, my books will provide an escape/touch point of sanity for other people. Sometimes it helps to remember this.

Predators and Editors Annual Poll

Have you voted yet? Hurry up. Name your favourites. And if you do have some spare cash floating around (I know, ha ha) you might want to help out Preditors and Editors with their legal expenses. It's a costly business, telling the truth.

Flower Power

Imagine driving on flowers. According to an article by the Economist, this may be the way of the future. Dandelions are being modified to produce rubber in commercial quantities. Apparently it will come from their roots, ideally when they've been developed to the size of carrots. Just think, my car tyres will come from the same place my coffee substitute does (which I don't drink enough of, mumble mumble, excuses, excuses...aah coffee! caffeine!).

It does seriously set me wondering what other possibilities were ignored during an era of cheap and convenient oil unsullied by worries of environmental damage. The world would have been so different without oil and its products. Would we have even managed to feed ourselves (not that we do, more shame to us) without the synthetic oil-derived fertilisers?

Blogging Poetry

The lovely thing about posting poetry on this blog is it doesn't have to be perfect. Submitting a poem elsewhere means paying attention to words, rhythm, sustained image, etc. But here I can concentrate on personal feeling--does the poem capture my intent in writing it? If I'm satisfied with its word play, emotion, use of form or fun, then I share the poem. Self-indulgent? Yes, but no one's compelled to read them.

Best Books of 2009

The Book Depository is running a competition (mentioned in their newsletter) for readers to review what they consider the best book of 2009.

Hmm. When I stop to think about it, most of the books I read this year weren't 2009 copyright. Even if I bought them new, they were often a couple of years old. But of those I did read, I think it's probably a toss up between Gail Carriger's Soulless and Daniel Metcalfe's Out of Steppe. Both have flaws, but the exuberant imagination Carriger displays trumps minor quibbles (like repeated mentions of the colour of the heroine's skin), and although I found Metcalfe's analysis a little light at times, he really does share with the reader a different world, one in which the people are alive and sympathetic. No stock characters.


Speaking of Metcalfe, the article on Waziristan in this week's Economist sounds mighty like him.

Enchanted Glass by Diana Wynne Jones

I just checked my account, and Enchanted Glass has been dispatched. O frabjous day!

This will be one parcel Toby doesn't bring in.

Cairo. City of Sand by Maria Golia

This is not a history book or a travel book. It is a sociology of Cairo or, more properly, a celebration of Cairo. Excellent research and observation plus sharp writing made me laugh aloud a couple of times. It is a story of a city, but also of the triumph of humanity which no matter how crowded, stressed, poor and constrained is nonetheless aware of the goodness of life.

The Paranormal is not a Shortcut to Numinous Experience

Because I haven't been posting about the tie in between numinous encounters and urban fantasy doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about it.

I don't want to use numinous as interchangeable with supernatural. A numinous experience is literally awesome. Beyond curiosity, it offers a genuine challenge and opportunity to self-assess, change and grow.

Recently on the web I've been reading comments from reviewers and romance readers that they are "paranormaled out". On one level, this is simply overdosing on one sub-genre and wanting a change. But on another level, I can't help but wonder if the original startlement of paranormal novels gave us as readers a sense of encountering the other--a numinous experience--and as paranormals have settled in as a recognised subgenre, that elusive shock and awe has faded. Vampires and werewolves have been normalised and can't give us that frisson of otherness--and we crave that frisson.

Perhaps encountering the numinous is a psychic need, one which good storytelling (like all the arts) ought to provide an opportunity for. A huge challenge for writers.

Lie Me Down in the Dust

This desire to return to the dirt
is a definition of identity.
I am hydrogen, oxygen, carbon,
all furnaced before time emerged.
Given life in composite.
A few years, and falling apart.
Is this what Yeats meant,
the centre cannot hold?
Who wants it to hold?
Return me to the dirt
and I will be ants, trees, other people;
perpetuated not by DNA
but by belonging and releasing.
I am the Resurrection.
What am I beyond atoms?

Trees die. So do books

Thanks to Author Scoop for the link on the number of books which never sell and have to be "dealt with".

Interesting comment tucked in the article on literary novels. Seems this is an argument that never dies. Either you adore literary novels, their innovation, the pleasure of their language, etc or you think they're an overprotected species who should be left to shrivel.

The Second Coming by W B Yeats

"The Second Coming"

I defy you to forget the image of the Sphinx moving across desert and dry reed beds. "the centre cannot hold" is such a powerful phrase it's influenced a number of my stories and even poems. I'll post "Lie Me Down in the Dust" one day.

Free Short Stories--Be Romantic

Long and Short Reviews publishes romance novel reviews and a weekly short story. Months and months ago I contributed a short story, "When Dreams Come True". Not only was it great to get free advertising (I had a romance eBook out), but I got helpful editorial input and the joy of sharing a story on a great site.

Spanish Coin by Margaret Westhaven

Spanish Coin is one of my favourite regencies. It has stood the test of time and re-reads. From its clever title (appropriate to the plot, but also playing with the slang use of "Spanish coin" meaning false compliments) to its triumphant ending it both follows the rules for a regency and gently subverts them. The heroine is as much Spanish as English, and the hero is Spanish--I won't given his full title, too long. The historical research provides a solid, but not obtrusive background.

Sunflowers

Lightspeed

Looking for a writing challenge? Lightspeed is a new SF zine where the competition for story placement will be fierce. It's fantastic to see a new zine starting and I wish them every success. More than that, I hope they have fun. John Joseph Adams, the fiction editor, wrote encouraging scribbles on my fiction subs to Fantasy and Science Fiction magazine a few years ago when I was a complete newbie and that kindness deserves clouds of positive karma.

Interesting when I read the submission guidelines that they ask for grateful writers (like me) not to deluge them with "thank you's" for a kind rejection. Their inbox will be full enough. So it seems my worry about shyness in the earlier post is misplaced. Silence is golden and much appreciated.

The Problem with Shyness

I'm shy. Sometimes I can hide it. Other times strangers just think I'm reserved/snobbish. Online, it means I lurk rather than comment--and that's a shame. It's ungracious. Out of their generosity people share their thoughts, info, themselves, and I respond with silence. When I do comment, I worry my well meant words will be misread and cause offence. So I'm mostly silent. Breaking through shyness is rather like scratching away at a carapace, where I'm the soft sea creature inside and simultaneously renewing the shell even as I struggle to get out. One of the few places I feel comfortable online is Absolute Write watercooler, and I recommend it to anyone who writes (anything, blogs included) or who dreams of writing.

Empty Pews

Is God busy?
I only ask
because this liturgy is so fast.
No time for my hunger.
No need for my prayer.
The priest has it covered.
No need for me here.

eBook Future

Still on the subject of eBooks, Jane at Dear Author started a discussion about the future of publishing and how readers can navigate the avalanche of eBooks to find treasures. She doesn't have a definitive answer. But as always, the comments are worth a look for the cross-section of readers and authors. Someone (and I apologise for not catching the name) pondered whether eBooks will be the proving ground for new subgenres--like vampires and werewolves were.

Will review sites continue to increase in value as a means of navigating this plethora of eBook offerings? But if that's the case, should we worry about reviewers' tendency to review the same offerings--as readers themselves, have they already been captured by publishing houses' PR depts? I'm not asking in a snarky way, just acknowledging that reviewers are human and as likely as any of us to be enticed by an excellent campaign.

It's all very well to say you can't keep a good book down, but I think they can be lost in the noise.

Maybe we should ask sites like Fictionwise to institute a lottery button. You can select a genre and maybe an age rating, and then the lottery button spits up a novel. The random nature will expand our reading horizons.

Biblio.com and eBooks

Depending on my mood, I can be a sucker for a survey. Today, I clicked through Biblio's customer survey and was struck by their list of "books you buy". They broke it down by genre, and last on the list was eBooks. I'm guessing they wanted to know whether they should sell eBooks, whether there's a market in their customer base, but it irked me. eBooks aren't a genre. They're a medium, just like paper. Clearly, it's taking the reading/selling world a while to get its collective mind around the concept. I mean, how do you collect and display on your shelf a collection of eBooks? Maybe it's a new business opportunity--virtual libraries! Not simply lists, but glittering displays of covers.

The Oxford Book of Short Poems

I'm hovering by the letterbox (well, I am on week days--even I'm not deluded enough to think the postie will work extra days just to deliver my wishes) waiting for my copy of The Oxford Book of Short Poems. I borrowed it from a library a couple of years ago and could have cried when I had to return it. Some books are meant to be keepers. This is one.

If you're not sure you like poetry, buy this book. The poems are the best of the best, and too brief to be terrifying.

Paperless Offices, Paperless Books

Richard Curtis gives his opinion on the future of publishing at GalleyCat. At #5 he suggests the rise of ebooks will paradoxically prompt an increase in paper book sales. Is this like the "paperless office" we were promised years ago? You know, the one where the introduction of computers increased the amount of paper produced.

How long will the urge to have our important words printed on paper last? Or will all words, one day, become disposable?

The Ode Less Travelled by Stephen Fry

No matter how brilliant Stephen Fry is as an actor and social commentator, when he is offered a knighthood, it will be for his contribution to the craft of poetry.

In The Ode Less Travelled he gently, wittily, inexorably insists on poets learning and mastering the "rules" of their craft. Fortunately, he's a good guide. I've had the book for ages and still haven't reached the end. With this book, the journey is the goal.

Thank you, Sir Fry.

Stereotypes

A cliché becomes a cliché because we recognise and re-use it.

As a writer I know editors don't want stereotyped characters. They want new, fresh and engaging. But stereotypes play an important role. They move on and off-stage with a minimum of description and fuss, and they can be gently subverted to provide sly fun.

As a reader, I like stereotypes. I'm happy to know the red haired heroine will be feisty; that tall, dark and handsome will be heroic; that nerds wear glasses and provide the means of solving difficulties. Stereotypes are comforting in their familiarity.

Sometimes a writer such as P G Wodehouse will create his own stereotype (think of the gently ineffective Bertie Wooster and his "rabbit" clones) and then recycle it through a number of characters and stories, to the delight of his readers.

Stereotypes are part of storytelling technique.

Numinous Experience

I've never read Shelley's Frankenstein, but it's a book that has worked its way deep into our culture. Is its impact due to the fact it's one of the first books to present the numinous experience as an encounter with modernity?

In Frankenstein's monster we have the vaulting ambition of human ingenuity. It is dangerous and wonderful.

It's a shame "shock and awe" has come to have military connotations because it's the perfect phrase to capture the numinous experience, and to understand that this encounter with the other is possible in a range of circumstances. Haunting science fiction stories have this element of shock and awe. Sometimes the result is the human heroes try to kill the shocking (numinous sparking) creature or technology. Other times it leads to a reflection on being human. Think of ET.

To encounter the numinous is to step beyond our day to day experience of living--and through that door, there are all kinds of possibilities.

Mirrors of the Unseen by Jason Elliot

Mirrors of the Unseen. Journeys in Iran drew me in as if I, too, were visiting the country. Elliot mixes ancient and modern history and his own experiences of Iran. His portrayal of people is mostly kindly (I hate sniggering travel books). His observations a trifle self-conscious. The second half of the book lost me a bit--I don't share his fascination with the Golden whatever geometry and its use in Iranian architecture. In reflecting on the book I could nitpick his focus on middle class life and taxi drivers, but that wouldn't be fair. The book is enjoyable and, to a degree, enlightening.

New Year Resolutions

Absolutely none. Some years I indulge in them, most years I don't. I'm neurotic enough without widening my sense of responsibility and guilt. Because, let's face it, New Year resolutions often do fail. Far better to sneak up on my nasty habits and clobber them unawares.

And I'm not saying what my nasty habits are.

I hope the new year reveals aspects of wonder in the world and in you. Enjoy.