Well, looks like I’ve done a phenomenal job of keeping up on this blog. And with writing in general. Although I did get my first short story published! Yay me! Granted, that was in November, and I was last sending out submissions in May, so the last few months have kind of been a portrait of myself as a fuckup. So rather than make a bunch of New Year’s resolutions that I’ll never be able to live up to, I’ll just try to get back on track, without the melodramatic vows that accompany the holiday. So yeah, expect to see more of this. Unless I fall back into my old habits.
Reading list, just because it’s fun. Since I last updated in March, there’s been a lot…
24. The Walking Dead: Rise of the Governor, Jay Bonansinga
25. Sword of Sedition, Loren Coleman
26. The Colour of Magic, Terry Pratchett
27. Grey, John Armstrong
28. Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town, Cory Doctorow
29. Reamde, Neal Stephenson
30. Zoo City, Lauren Beukes
31. After the Golden Age, Carrie Vaughn
32. Ready Player One, Ernest Cline
33. The Blue Light Project, Timothy Taylor
34. Playing for Pizza, John Grisham
35. A Dance With Dragons, George R.R. Martin
36. The Quantum Thief, Hannu Rajaniemi
37. Old Man’s War, John Scalzi
38. Accelerando, Charles Stross
39. Machine of Death, anthology
40. Deadline, Mira Grant
41. Makers, Cory Doctorow
42. Falling Free, Lois McMaster-Bujold
43. Born Standing Up, Steve Martin
44. Zendegi, Greg Egan
45. The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, N.K. Jemisin
46. Feed, Mira Grant
47. Soft Apocalypse, Will McIntosh
48. Altered Carbon, Richard K. Morgan
49. The Last Argument of Kings, Joe Abercrombie
50. At the Queen’s Command, Michael Stackpole
51. Of Blood and Honey, Stina Leicht (Favorite Book of the Year Award!)
52. For the Win, Cory Doctorow
53. Agent to the Stars, John Scalzi
54. God’s War, Kameron Hurley
55. Embedded, Dan Abbnett
56. Before They Are Hanged, Joe Abercrombie
57. A Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin
58. A Storm of Swords, George R.R. Martin
59. A Feast for Crows, George R.R. Martin
60. A Clash of Kings, George R.R. Martin
I think that’s it, but I can’t be sure.
I read an interesting little story today, called “Don’t Look Behind You” by Fredric Brown, one of the most enduring and beloved of America’s pulp writers. It’s a mystery story in which the reader is the victim. I don’t want to give anything away, but it uses the format in which it originally appeared to make the conceit work. Very fun, and I’d say it’s a precursor to the modern alternate reality game, which uses the myriad of information resources available to craft a compelling story that immerses the reader.
20. 1632, Eric Flint
21. The Blade Itself, Joe Abercrombie
22. Space Cadet, Robert Heinlein
23. The A.I. War: The Big Boost, Daniel Keys Moran
That last one is very important to me, although more important to Dan Moran, I expect. The previous books in the ‘Tales of the Continuing Time’ series, Emerald Eyes, The Long Run and The Last Dancer, are great. Nominally cyberpunk, with time travel, aliens, conspiracies and a smart hero devoted to non-violence. Good stuff.
So the next book in the series came out, which in itself is awesome, but here’s the thing: the last book was published in 1993. There was a big blow-up with the publisher which, as far as I can tell, ended up with them dangling the finished book out of his reach, refusing to publish it, and DKM finally buying back the rights to his own book a few years back.
It’s been like slipping into an old pair of shoes. Well-worn, but fits you perfect. If you’re into sci-fi, and want a fun series to sink your teeth into check these books out. The first three are available free as PDFs, and the most recent is available (as well as the previous books in epub and other ebook formats) at the enigmatically named FS&.
While it’s not quite as bad as the McDonald’s “I’d Hit That” from a few years back, I just saw a banner ad that made me laugh out loud with its less-than-favorable implications.
So, with all the reviews Domino’s has received for their new pizza, the most glowing review they could come up with is four out of five stars? Not a single taste-tester gave it five stars? Even the most strident Domino’s fan, apparently Mia6 of Dover, DE, said “Five out of five? Let’s not go nuts, here.” If that’s the standard Domino’s measures success by, those are some seriously lowered expectations.
Oh, and if you’re not aware of the McDonalds ad, check out this blog post from Andrew Teman.
I’ve always been a voracious reader, but I’m only starting to realize how important that is to an aspiring writer. You really have to read to keep up on trends and ideas, to prevent yourself from repeating stories. I wrote a story about a time-traveling historian who visits Tang Dynasty China to interact with a famed poet, only to find that several 2010 novels (“Blackout/All Clear” by Connie Willis and “Under Heaven” by Guy Gavriel Kay) deal with time-traveling historians, the Tang Dynasty and the poet in one or the other.
So I’m trying to get back into old habits and pick up on my reading. For enjoyment, yes, but also to try to prevent myself from retreading familiar ground. So, in no particular order, the books I’ve read since New Years.
- On Basilisk Station, David Weber
- The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Stieg Larsson
- The Name of the Wind, Patrick Rothfuss
- The Wise Man’s Fear, Patrick Rothfuss
- Star Wars: Vortex, Troy Denning
- On Writing, Stephen King
- Rite of Passage, Alexei Panshin
- Blackout, Connie Willis
- All Clear, Connie Willis
- Ethan of Athos, Lois McMaster-Bujold
- Brothers in Arms, Lois McMaster-Bujold
- Mirror Dance, Lois McMaster-Bujold
- Memory, Lois McMaster-Bujold
- Komarr, Lois McMaster-Bujold
- A Civil Campaign, Lois McMaster-Bujold
- Diplomatic Immunity, Lois McMaster-Bujold
- Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom, Cory Doctorow
- Little Brother, Cory Doctorow
- Fallen Angels, Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle & Michael Flynn
Please note, this does not include short stories, novellas, novelettes and other short form work. I enjoyed all of them, for the most part. The Vorkosigan books are among my all-time favorites, and Rothfuss is getting up there. Blackout and All Clear (one book, really, split into two by the publisher), however, were Nebula nominated this year, and I found them, while not bad, fairly tedious at times.
I’m also in the middle of 1632 by Eric Flint (as an ebook) and The Blade Itself by Joe Abercrombie (in print). Next to be read is likely God’s War by Kameron Hurley, For The Win by Cory Doctorow, or Agent to the Stars by John Scalzi (all three free ebooks from various legal sources on the Internet).
Honestly, for all his supposed good works, Batman has caused far more suffering in my household than joy. Ignore, for the moment, the idea that Gotham’s supercriminals exist as a response to him. His ears are pointy, making him a perfect weapon for 627 to poke his brother with. His existence in a mere single temporal-spatial location makes my children scream (“I want it!” “It’s my turn!”). The variety in portrayal creates a never-ending flow of demands (“I want that one! And that one!”). Videogames with him in it are apparently physiologically addictive, because they lead to shakes, screams and begging for more. Honestly, I’m sick of him.
That said, I love his portrayal in Cartoon Network’s Young Justice. Rather than the grim loner avenger of the night, he’s a thoughtful father figure. Sometimes stern and authoritative, but never authoritarian. He’s capable of both a firm, guiding hand and a soft touch. Compare him to the confused, occasionally belligerent Superman, who deals with his newfound offspring in Superboy by ignoring him whenever he can. It’s a very pleasant change of pace from the near-psychotic that he’s been portrayed as in recent years.
First off, an apology. It’s been a while since I wrote something here, so for all six of you who read this blog, I’ sorry. I’ll try to do better.
There’s a new development among the boys that is both amusing and terrifying. They have decided it’s fun to fight. Not argue, not compete, but fight. Slapping, body slamming, clawing, pinching, head-butting. The other night, 2.0 had more welts on his chest than a pro wrestler, and I think Experiment 627 is starting to develop cauliflower ear.
My own brother and I are five years apart, and we never fought like this. We’d have an occasional altercation, but it wouldn’t last for more than a punch to the arm, a toss into a wall, or a shovel to the head (the shovel was an accident, not an actual assault by my brother, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I can’t remember the entire month of January, 1996).
My own kids are just over two years apart, and with my little one continuing to be a voracious eater, they’re not far apart in weight. 2.0 has a reach advantage, but when everyone’s jumping around on the couch, that doesn’t count for much.
I’m actually a bit glad, in a way. 2.0 has been, to this point, a bit wimpy. I’m certainly not the kind of parent to encourage fighting, and I’ve never really been a particularly tough guy, but there’s something to be said for sucking up a bit of pain. But when I gave the ultimatum “If either of you makes the other one cry, you’re both going to bed,” they continued to fight and laugh about it.
On a side note, my father, who had spent more than three decades as a Chicago police officer, retired last month. I have never known him, professionally, as anything other than a police officer. To see him as a man of leisure is slightly disconcerting, but well-deserved. Imagine this: in all his time working, he never took a sick day. He’d had medical leave for injuries, but not once did he wake up and think “I don’t want to go to work today, I’ll make something up.” That’s a love for a job and a work ethic that I find remarkable.
627 has long had a specific bedtime ritual. He heads up the stairs, brushes his teeth and gets into bed. He then gives me, in order, a kiss, a hug, and a bonk (a usually gentle headbutt), then a wave goodnight.
But over the last week or so, he’s doubled the number of steps. It’s gotten to the point that it’s the toddler equivalent of a complex jive handshake.
"Excuse me, stewardess, I speak 627."
Following the bonk, I then get a pat on the head, a poke in the eye, a honk of the nose, a fishhook, and then the wave goodbye.
At what point am I just going to cut this kid off? Both because of the time constraint, and for my own safety? It’s not what 2.0 used to do, which was find any excuse to keep me in the room so he could stay up a few minutes later; it’s genuinely affectionate. But he’s going to keep adding to it, and he’s started to repeat steps. I don’t think I can handle repeated Blade Runner-esque pokings in the eyes.
Last week, the wife and I took son 2.0 to go see Toy Story 3. We were all looking forward to it, but my wife most of all. Last year, I took 2.0 to see Up, which was his first movie in a theater. Since then, he’s always called it “our special movie,” which is heartbreakingly adorable, but I think she felt left out.
Anyway, it’s been a week, and it’s had some time to percolate in my head. The movie itself was, of course, excellent. Pixar has yet to make a film that failed to appeal to me (or for the general viewing public), and this was no exception. It had the typical Toy Story charm (“I’m pretty sure I just came back from the doctor with life-changing news!”), and the animation was up to par.
Tthis isn’t really a complaint, but Pixar has come so far since the first Toy Story in 1995 that similar animation in 2010 looks like a step back. Of course, everything is more detailed now, but there’s only so much more detail you can add without changing the characters from their beloved, iconic appearance. The newer characters, such as villain Lotso, were clearly more advanced. But while it paled compared to 2008’s Wall-E, which was a masterpiece of detail, Toy Story 3 still did the job well.
The tone of the story was surprisingly dark. Not just the actual scary parts (of which there were a couple: a cymbal-crashing monkey henchman and incinerator scene frightened 2.0, and not without reason), but some of the themes. Andy, the owner of the toys, is on the verge of leaving for college, and the toys fear being abandoned. Rather than wait for the inevitable, the toys go to a local daycare center, where another story of abandonment awaits.
The entire story has a sense of staving off the inevitable. After all, no matter how much fun he had with his toys, Andy is not going to get younger and play with them again. In the end, during the aforementioned incinerator scene, the main characters give up hope, simply accepting their fate and resigning themselves to oblivion, with the only consolation that they are together at the end. They are saved by a literal deus ex machina, and they go on to another home, another appreciative child.
I find the emotional content of the movie is not really aimed at kids, but at their parents. The idea of a child growing older and not needing you anymore is a powerful one, and in my showing, there were more than a few teary-eyed adults (including myself), and at least one mother sobbing hysterically.
I’m not sure if it’s coincidence or not, but 2.0 has begun to ask about one of the topics I’ve always dreaded discussing: death. I personally find it very difficult to try to explain, because I’ve struggled my entire life with the loss of a loved one. He doesn’t really understand it, he just knows that eventually, you won’t be able to see people anymore. I’ve been trying to take the middle path, explaining that it’s okay to be nervous about it, but that it’s not going to happen to anyone he loves for a long time. He clams up and doesn’t want to discuss it further, and I don’t want to belabor the point, but I’m not sure what he’s thinking about it.
At any rate, the movie also got me thinking, what happens when Pixar finally has a bomb? They have a remarkable string of successes, and clearly have a culture set up to nurture success, but no one is perfect forever, right? I have to imagine that Disney pretty much just pencils in a hit movie every summer from them, so how would they react when a surefire revenue stream suddenly dries up for a year?
I don’t imagine we’ll find out next year, as Cars 2 is on the schedule. Pixar has two films scheduled for 2012: Brave and Monsters, Inc. 2. Interestingly, they did announce a movie, Newt, which has since been canceled. I was hoping for a sequel to Aliens focusing on Carrie Henn’s character, but it was actually a love story between two newts facing extinction, which sounded pretty good to me too. I find it interesting that they chose to cancel the project completely. I am pretty sure other studios would have forged ahead, doing rewrites and reworks to try to polish a turd.
Father’s Day is upon us. My own father once described Mother’s Day as “amateur hour”, when people take their mothers or wives out for a nice dinner, and then get back to ignoring her like the other 364 days of the year. Father’s Day is kind of like that when it comes to gifts. If you don’t play golf, 50% of the advertising doesn’t really apply to you. The other 50% is for that automated tie rack from The Sharper Image. And you’re out of luck if you’re a smoker, because you can’t even get a new ashtray from your kids anymore.
Anyway, last week was my own father’s birthday, so I figured the week between was the perfect place for this. Not to sound conceited, but I think I’m a pretty good father. I love my children, I enjoy being around them, and I’m moderately to extremely patient. I would be none of these things without the example of my own father.
My dad spent most of my childhood working late afternoons and nights, so he was around during the day. I never realized it until years later how fortunate I was to have him around. He never spent late nights in his office. Instead, he’d spend the day teaching me the art of bidding on household good on The Price is Right (as an aside, I believe we should abolish all coinage and simply round everything to the nearest dollar). It was my dad who made me lunch during the summer. It was my dad who drove me everywhere I wanted to go.
It was my dad who cleaned the house with the devotion of the obsessive compulsive. No, really. He had a vacuum with his name and a screaming skull sticker on it. That vacuum eventually broke from overuse. The handle broke clean off. And like any good father, he duct-taped it back on.
When I decided to stay home with my son, it was my dad who made it feel normal to me. Not just because he felt I’d be good at it, although he did, but because growing up with a father taking care of a child felt completely normal to me.
When my son was born, I remember holding him and talking to my father. I laughed nervously and said that I was intimidated by the enormity of the task in front of me. I remember him chuckling and saying that this is the part that anyone can do. “This part is like taking care of a puppy. Feed him, change his diaper, make sure he’s safe, anyone can do that. It’s when you have to make them into decent human beings that it gets difficult.” Like most advice he’s ever given me, he was correct.
One of my favorite quotes by Mark Twain applies perfectly to my father. “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”
The Children Are Revolting 