I finished Kate Elliott's Traitors' Gate last night. Stayed up late to do it, despite the fact that I was losing the fight against the latest upper respiratory bug, had cared for a sick kid and a sick husband over the long weekend instead of writing or resting much myself, and have very insistent writing projects sick of waiting patiently for my attention (which explains why they think my paltry attempts to resume their halted progres is HORRID and UNWORTHY and WHAT WORTHLESS CRAP HAS CONSUMED THAT ATTENTION SO AS TO RESULT IN SUCH A TRAGIC DISPLAY YOU'D THINK ALL THIS TIME OFF WOULD RESULT IN GOLD PURE GOLD UPON YOUR RETURN).
Worth it.
Part of me wants to devote a very thinky post to reviewing this book and the whole trilogy because there's a lot of good stuff to crunch in there. The other part must bow down to the insistent voices of my own writing projects and stop finding ways to give too much of myself to things other than them. So I'll compromise and give a brief, scattered recall of what I liked about this book and the series in a quick post. One of these days I'll get good at rewarding myself with such fun posts if I've made certain amounts of progress in my writing. Best I focus on getting back on the writing horse at all for the moment.
Where was I? Ah, Traitor's Gate.
First, stayed up past my bed time because of the particular binds and conflicts Elliott forced upon her characters. She found a satisfying ending despite elements of it being rather sad and open-ended. As a writer, I think I would have frozen halfway through the truly sticky ordeals I was creating and started revising in order to get to the Shiny Happy Ending. So I kept reading, sensing that the ending wasn't going to be bliss, but trusting that I was still going to appreciate where it got me after the journey of those three books. I took some mental notes on that score, but I think it might be a while before I feel confident enough to pull off a similar feat.
Also on the writing score, even though I knew what one particular character had done and could see the trend of where he was going to land, I still read with anticipation how each of the characters who interacted with him came to discover the actions and arc and what they would do about it and how it would impact their own arc. Furthermore, deftly weaving politics and morality and gender and sexuality into the voices of many characters and not coming off preachy in any way? Awesome. Hell, even the occasional asyouknowbobbing in the dialog was helpful rather than aggravating because it actually quickly and concisely and in a character's voice gave me information from the past two doorstops of books that was more than a little fuzzy in my memory.
At some point during the commute home, I requested my brain provide something coherent and thought-provoking to offer as a deeper reader response than *fangirl squee*. The brain actually came up with something.
The heroes in this story continually questioned themselves and their understanding of the world. They weren't afraid to see their flaws and try to change or at least try to do their best despite them. They doubted but kept trying their best, particularly to let others have power to choose for themselves their own paths. The villains rarely questioned themselves, and if they did, the questions immobilized them, or the questions were rigged to provide a false answer or the one they wanted. They never wanted others to have power that they could not control or overtake, particularly when it came to how other folk should live their lives. And that's why, despite an ending in which an antagonist endures fairly triumphant (hopefully vague enough not to be a spoiler), the protagonists actually have a triumph of their own, because they are still able and willing to question themselves and the world around them, and to try their best to restore power to those who have none.
And that's my deep thought for the day.
Showing posts with label pop culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pop culture. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
This is Why I Love Writing
If stuff like this got taught as part of the satire and parody spiel in high school english, more people would think reading and writing is cool. My fave is from the Stormtrooper Commander, mostly because it's pitch-perfect for standard corporate speak in which one must point out flaws yet work toward a solution while barely restraining the desire to descend into a long string of "OMG! WTF? SRSLY?"
Monday, July 20, 2009
Bowling Fiend
Drew is quite the Wii bowler. He beat me yesterday by scoring 160. He even bowled four strikes in a row that game. I am not quite sure how his seemingly random swinging at the screen translates into such bowling prowess, but whatever he's doing clearly works for him.
As for the other Wii sports and games, he's developing an affinity for boxing and enjoys the golf target practice. He likes the concept of tennis and baseball but gets easily frustrated because those games require a bit more coordination of the timing and angle of the swinging motion. On the Wii Fit Board, his weight is mostly too negligible to allow for much fun and success with those games, but he does have a blast failing on the ski jump and turning his Mii into a snowball.
There are a lot of games he likes to watch, like the cow racing game on Play and the tightrope on Fit. He also gets a big kick out of Link hacking through grass on Zelda. I hope he'll develop an interest in watching Momma do yoga poses and more of the aerobics games. I've managed to lose a lot of weight this year, but I'm still struggling to get rid of the flab that dribbles over my c-section scar. I refuse to admit defeat to it!
As for the other Wii sports and games, he's developing an affinity for boxing and enjoys the golf target practice. He likes the concept of tennis and baseball but gets easily frustrated because those games require a bit more coordination of the timing and angle of the swinging motion. On the Wii Fit Board, his weight is mostly too negligible to allow for much fun and success with those games, but he does have a blast failing on the ski jump and turning his Mii into a snowball.
There are a lot of games he likes to watch, like the cow racing game on Play and the tightrope on Fit. He also gets a big kick out of Link hacking through grass on Zelda. I hope he'll develop an interest in watching Momma do yoga poses and more of the aerobics games. I've managed to lose a lot of weight this year, but I'm still struggling to get rid of the flab that dribbles over my c-section scar. I refuse to admit defeat to it!
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
A Sequel that Improves the Initial Movie
Mark and I finally got around to watching Quantum of Solace this weekend. DirecTV had a two-fer special bundling that with Casino Royale for a good price, so we went that route and reminded ourselves what the Bond Reboot was up to and why.
I'm so happy we did.
Having watched these two movies within a few hours of each other, I'm very impressed with the overall storyline and character arc. I don't think either movie stands too well on their own compared to how they work together. I've never seen that happen so effectively in serial movies or duologies or trilogies. And it's a bit of a risk that the creators took in splitting that story up as they did. Granted, it's a bigger risk to have tried to bundle CR and QoS into one 4.25-hour-long film, and I don't think there's much I'd recommend cutting out of either movie to get that number down to something more manageable. But I don't think I'll ever be able to watch either CR or QoS on their own and be satisfied with the experience.
That being said, I think the Bond Reboot is effectively established at the end of QoS and that now the franchise can get on with more standalone stories that should offer more depth than the previously established idiom could allow.
Yay, Bond. You've finally found your way out of the Cold War without resorting to cartoonish scenarios and caricatures.
I'm so happy we did.
Having watched these two movies within a few hours of each other, I'm very impressed with the overall storyline and character arc. I don't think either movie stands too well on their own compared to how they work together. I've never seen that happen so effectively in serial movies or duologies or trilogies. And it's a bit of a risk that the creators took in splitting that story up as they did. Granted, it's a bigger risk to have tried to bundle CR and QoS into one 4.25-hour-long film, and I don't think there's much I'd recommend cutting out of either movie to get that number down to something more manageable. But I don't think I'll ever be able to watch either CR or QoS on their own and be satisfied with the experience.
That being said, I think the Bond Reboot is effectively established at the end of QoS and that now the franchise can get on with more standalone stories that should offer more depth than the previously established idiom could allow.
Yay, Bond. You've finally found your way out of the Cold War without resorting to cartoonish scenarios and caricatures.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
On Being Sick During a Hyped Outbreak
I'm recovering from an upper respiratory bug that started like the myriad others I've endured since Drew went back to daycare in September. The only difference is that this one sunk its fangs hard into me after three days and sent me to bed for the next three. The number of times I've heard folks ask me if it's swine flu have not been amusing. I work in a medical clinic, so most of the swine flu lines have been jokes. If I worked in a less-informed environment, I'm sure I'd be very annoyed by now.
If anything, this URI might have morphed into something like bronchitis or a sinus infection. But I definitely don't have swine flu. No vomiting, no diarrhea, and my temperture only broke 100 for about an hour, maybe two. Otherwise, it's been an annoying low-grade in the 99s.
So, please. Just keep washing your hands, pushing fluids, guzzling OJ, and doing all the normal stuff you'd do during the height of cold and flu season. Don't flinch over every cough and sniffle.
If anything, this URI might have morphed into something like bronchitis or a sinus infection. But I definitely don't have swine flu. No vomiting, no diarrhea, and my temperture only broke 100 for about an hour, maybe two. Otherwise, it's been an annoying low-grade in the 99s.
So, please. Just keep washing your hands, pushing fluids, guzzling OJ, and doing all the normal stuff you'd do during the height of cold and flu season. Don't flinch over every cough and sniffle.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
An Afternoon with the Planet
Saw Earth today and loved it. Drew was transfixed through the first third of it then got a little antsy as the pretty pictures didn't enrapture him quite as much as they did Momma and Daddy. He enjoyed the whales the most. Momma teared up for a few of the beautiful shots they put together.
We certainly do live in a pretty special place.
Then my writer brain kicked in and tried to figure out just how in the world someone tried to piece together any sort of narrative to this kind of documentary. They advertised a "join three families" storyline that they kind of stuck to, and there were certainly good vignettes to go with the images captured. But as a storyframe to hang nearly 100 minutes on? Just wasn't up to the task. Given the immense scope of taking a concept such as the Planet Earth series and trying to distill that into a feature film, they certainly did a great job finding any sort of coherent structure. I found myself challenged by the idea of what could make it better and getting lost once again in the wonder of this ball of dirt we call home.
If you've got the $10, I highly recommend catching this in the theater to see the amazing footage they captured and the neat photography tricks they used to show the progression of seasons on a large (yes, even global) scale.
We certainly do live in a pretty special place.
Then my writer brain kicked in and tried to figure out just how in the world someone tried to piece together any sort of narrative to this kind of documentary. They advertised a "join three families" storyline that they kind of stuck to, and there were certainly good vignettes to go with the images captured. But as a storyframe to hang nearly 100 minutes on? Just wasn't up to the task. Given the immense scope of taking a concept such as the Planet Earth series and trying to distill that into a feature film, they certainly did a great job finding any sort of coherent structure. I found myself challenged by the idea of what could make it better and getting lost once again in the wonder of this ball of dirt we call home.
If you've got the $10, I highly recommend catching this in the theater to see the amazing footage they captured and the neat photography tricks they used to show the progression of seasons on a large (yes, even global) scale.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Stargate: Universe Off to Good Start
I'd like to say I called it, but that always sounds so silly when you only mention this after the formal announcement. But, dude, my Spidey Sense did tingle every so slightly yesterday when Scalzi mentioned he was in Vancouver and a commenter noted that Mallozzi of Stargate fame had indicated Scalzi was there at Mallozzi's invite. I remember a half-formed thought to the effect of "I wonder if this has to do with Stargate: Universe?" And, indeed, Scalzi has announced he will be a Creative Consultant for the show.
As others have noted, this is the best news I've heard about this show yet. It improves the chances of my liking this show considerably and being willing to watch it regularly even through the usual new show jitters. That's saying something after Stargate: Atlantis seemed to go out with a fizzle and no clear direction for the supposedly green-lit movies. It'll be interesting to watch for his influence if nothing else.
As others have noted, this is the best news I've heard about this show yet. It improves the chances of my liking this show considerably and being willing to watch it regularly even through the usual new show jitters. That's saying something after Stargate: Atlantis seemed to go out with a fizzle and no clear direction for the supposedly green-lit movies. It'll be interesting to watch for his influence if nothing else.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Backstory Like Shifting Sands
We've been watching Sanctuary, and, as with all new shows, we're still not sure about it but keep tuning in to see if this episode will be the one to win us over or scratch it off our DVR's To Do list. Now that its first season is done, I've figured out my biggest problem with this show: the backstory seems remarkably fluid.
With every revelation of how abnormals work or how Magnus came to be where she is today or what the Cabal is or how the Five interacted, it seems as if the details don't quite mesh together or have shifted to meet the needs of the current story rather than evolved from what we already knew of the characters and the world. In short: it feels like they're making it up as they go.
For example, first we learn about the Five, a group Magnus was part of that studied abnormals and injected themselves with pure vampire blood in order to make themselves abnormal, to varying degrees of success. OK, fine, neat concept. I can work with this. Then halfway through the season (maybe more?), suddenly we meet Magnus's father, and he's also turned himself abnormal (I think) and HE was the one who got Magnus interested in abnormals, and HE was a huge guiding, mentoring, interactive part of the Five. That felt a bit like a left turn.
Another example: a couple of episodes in, we meet the Cabal, some darkly secret group who wants to exploit abnormals for their own ends and will mow over anyone who gets in their way. This organization seems an unknown to Magnus, as if she's just hearing about it, but as the rest of the season unfolded, the entire cast (including the Five) seems to have some basic working knowledge and understanding of the Cabal as if they've been known enemies for decades at the least. Another left turn.
It makes this viewer frustrated because I never know which detail they give me will actually remain true to the context and manner in which it is given. So one week I might get excited about a hint they've given me, only to be disappointed the very next week when they twist that hint into something almost entirely unexpected.
Yet I'll be tuning in for the next season at the start. Mostly because the Five seems to bring out the best in the writing and acting (which is why I'm thoroughly bummed they killed off Watson; watching him interact with everyone--except Will; man do they need to do something with that character--was pure joy). And, if nothing else, this show is teaching me the flaws in revealing worldbuilding and backstory that I can avoid in my own writing. I'd prefer to be learning how to do something right, of course, but I'll take my education where I can get it.
With every revelation of how abnormals work or how Magnus came to be where she is today or what the Cabal is or how the Five interacted, it seems as if the details don't quite mesh together or have shifted to meet the needs of the current story rather than evolved from what we already knew of the characters and the world. In short: it feels like they're making it up as they go.
For example, first we learn about the Five, a group Magnus was part of that studied abnormals and injected themselves with pure vampire blood in order to make themselves abnormal, to varying degrees of success. OK, fine, neat concept. I can work with this. Then halfway through the season (maybe more?), suddenly we meet Magnus's father, and he's also turned himself abnormal (I think) and HE was the one who got Magnus interested in abnormals, and HE was a huge guiding, mentoring, interactive part of the Five. That felt a bit like a left turn.
Another example: a couple of episodes in, we meet the Cabal, some darkly secret group who wants to exploit abnormals for their own ends and will mow over anyone who gets in their way. This organization seems an unknown to Magnus, as if she's just hearing about it, but as the rest of the season unfolded, the entire cast (including the Five) seems to have some basic working knowledge and understanding of the Cabal as if they've been known enemies for decades at the least. Another left turn.
It makes this viewer frustrated because I never know which detail they give me will actually remain true to the context and manner in which it is given. So one week I might get excited about a hint they've given me, only to be disappointed the very next week when they twist that hint into something almost entirely unexpected.
Yet I'll be tuning in for the next season at the start. Mostly because the Five seems to bring out the best in the writing and acting (which is why I'm thoroughly bummed they killed off Watson; watching him interact with everyone--except Will; man do they need to do something with that character--was pure joy). And, if nothing else, this show is teaching me the flaws in revealing worldbuilding and backstory that I can avoid in my own writing. I'd prefer to be learning how to do something right, of course, but I'll take my education where I can get it.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
PPR's Theme, Apparently
Seeing as how I can't stop listening to this song as I work through several key scenes from this story in mind, I guess I've found a main title song for my soundtrack.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Scalzi is Smart
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Imbibing in a Comelatory Drink
I offer into the English language a new word: comelatory. It's an amalgamation of "comiserating" and "celebratory" in that I need a drink to watch all this talk of statistics and political commentary. But with only 30-40% of precincts nationwide reporting and no one yet projected to have the necessary 270 votes, I have no idea whether my drink is supposed to be drowning my sorrows or toasting my preferred candidate's success.
The drink in question is my second attempt to recreate The Vixen. If I may say, the second time's the charm.
Also, Comedy Central has the most entertaining election coverage by far.
The drink in question is my second attempt to recreate The Vixen. If I may say, the second time's the charm.
Also, Comedy Central has the most entertaining election coverage by far.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
If Only I Could Fit This in Attractive, Cutesy Print on a Door Hanging
Dear Solicitor/Salesman/Proselytizer:
I am sorry that your vocation requires you to schlep around in this Arizona heat, but you will not find anything more than a polite dismissal at this house. If ever I should wish to partake of your services, product, or faith, I will find you and inquire further.
To forestall any follow-up concerns: If you do not have a website with which I can easily find your company or church, then I will likely never be interested in your services, product, or faith. If you have a spectacular deal on your service or product that is only available for the duration of your visit to this house, then you should not be upset that my potentially choosing to purchase your service or product at a later date will result in more money for you.
Sincerely,
The Family Residence
Friday, August 08, 2008
Post-novel Ennui: The Fun that Keeps on Giving
So while finishing my novel didn't feel like a momentous occasion when it happened, or even for the two days following, it's certainly been affecting my life since then. For a while there, I had a hard time summoning up the energy to care about anything that didn't involve me doing nothing. I pushed working on my newsletter until Wednesday evening, which really made today and yesterday fun to get it finished. I'm saved from feeling fully guilty about that, though, as I just got the last thing I needed to put in the newsletter today, so even if I had been on top of the ball, the thing wouldn't have been finished until today.
So that's why things have been so silent around here. They may continue to be, I don't know. As it is, all I can provide right now is a link, but it's a good one.
In case you've missed it, Paris Hilton smacks down McCain as she announces her "candidacy" and even presents her platform (a smart energy plan and painting the White House pink). Too bad she's too young; we could've had a woman prez next year after all.
So that's why things have been so silent around here. They may continue to be, I don't know. As it is, all I can provide right now is a link, but it's a good one.
In case you've missed it, Paris Hilton smacks down McCain as she announces her "candidacy" and even presents her platform (a smart energy plan and painting the White House pink). Too bad she's too young; we could've had a woman prez next year after all.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Just Chillin'
I've been on break since I finished the draft on Thursday. Well, not really. I had to work for over six hours on Friday, which is the day I usually take off. And there's the usual errands and house chores to tend to on any given weekend. But in the writing sphere, I've taken a grand total of thirty minutes to do my outline-after-the-fact of the last two chapters I wrote as well as sketch out the various topics I want to read up on in this downtime along with the potential problem areas that jump out at me. I'm still too close to really get good info for either of those last two points. In mid-August, I'll review my after-the-fact outline and my sketch of how I think the first part should go and kick start my brain. Mostly I just want to get a good overview of this book as a whole so the subconscious can kick some ideas around in the latter part of my break from the book.
But this means I've avoided the computer except to check email. Thus, no blogging. That's something that might hold for August as most of my short fiction work is revising paper copies, not a lot of sitting in front of the computer work.
Besides, it's nice to give myself a break, not be forced to take one becuase my health is in the gutter or default into a break because I'm procrastinating. Plus, gave me a chance to see The Dark Knight with Mark last night. Fantastic movie that I'm really digging on a writing level in addition to it just being a good movie. I'm already starting to pull out neat themes and arcs that tie in nearly flawlessly with the first movie, and I know more's going to click after I see TDK again (which will likely have to wait until the DVD).
In fact, I'm so digging this break concept, that I haven't even started working on the RWA newsletter like I had originally promised myself I would do this weekend. Kind of gave up on that idea this morning and just acknowledged that I needed to give myself some true downtime to just goof off. So I played more Final Fantasy X. Feels good to goof off.
But this means I've avoided the computer except to check email. Thus, no blogging. That's something that might hold for August as most of my short fiction work is revising paper copies, not a lot of sitting in front of the computer work.
Besides, it's nice to give myself a break, not be forced to take one becuase my health is in the gutter or default into a break because I'm procrastinating. Plus, gave me a chance to see The Dark Knight with Mark last night. Fantastic movie that I'm really digging on a writing level in addition to it just being a good movie. I'm already starting to pull out neat themes and arcs that tie in nearly flawlessly with the first movie, and I know more's going to click after I see TDK again (which will likely have to wait until the DVD).
In fact, I'm so digging this break concept, that I haven't even started working on the RWA newsletter like I had originally promised myself I would do this weekend. Kind of gave up on that idea this morning and just acknowledged that I needed to give myself some true downtime to just goof off. So I played more Final Fantasy X. Feels good to goof off.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Not Dead Yet
The saga of my health is more frustrating than it is entertaining, but, hey, I don't want to neglect my blog. So here's an update on the exciting Medical Maladies of Kellie Hazell.
I did end up going to the doctor on Friday. I knew it was going to be a rough time when Drew refused to settle down at any point before my doctor actually came in. The roughness increased when I realized that my doctor was frazzled for reasons of her own and "interviewed" me and listened to my complaints by skimming through (out loud, at least, so I could try to interject more info) my history on the joint issues and the various reports from the orthopedic specialist and my physical therapist. Each time I took breath to interrupt her assertively and make her listen that I didn't think it was bursitis again (a diagnosis I think she might have made before she even opened the exam room door), Drew would act out and I would have to address him instead and the moment was gone.
The only really aware thing my doctor did was to forego a steroid injection in my shoulder as when they tried that with my hip back in January, my symptoms escalated to severe piriformis syndrome and a mildly numb leg. She gave me oral steroids instead and the same NSAID from the previous merry-go-round adventure in January. By that point, I was indifferent to the process and figured it'd be best to try out her preferred treatment and be able to rule out anything obvious. That was Friday night.
Saturday, I woke to worse joint pain than before and horrendously tightening muscles. I put up with it through the day, taking it easy as much as I could. On Sunday, I went looking for all sorts of information on the particular steroid I had been prescribed to examine all those fun side effects. Sure enough severe muscle tightening and joint pain were listed as major side effects. So I groaned a bit, but decided to troop through (as I had also discovered Sunday morning after delaying the next dose a couple of hours that going cold-turkey was going to give me severe headaches and other unpleasantness).
Then, last night, the right hip and shoulder pain (which had been non-existant before Friday) grew to levels almost too uncomfortable for sleep, and this morning became so severe that in order to just sit and work at the desk, I had to take the pain med. The pain med cut away the worst of the pain while leaving behind swelling in my knee that prevents me from straightening my leg and gives a nice tingling sensation below the knee. Oh, and have I mentioned the occasional shortness of breath and mild dizziness? So, yeah, going back to the doctor this afternoon. My doctor is out, though, so I'll have the benefit of starting fresh with someone new at the clinic. And I'll be leaving Drew to hang out in the pool with my mom so he doesn't distract the process.
I was trying to figure out what book I wanted to bring with me, as going anywhere by myself during the weekday is something of a novelty and a book would be useful. As much as I want to read anything by Robert Charles Wilson, the only book I have on hand is Blind Lake, which begins in the POV of a character who has snorted coke just to be polite over the course of a mostly anonymous one-night stand. I'm all for flawed, interesting characters and kicking someone to their lowest spots to watch them struggle to get beyond it, but I just don't have the patience for it right now. So I remembered I had Karin Lowachee's first book Warchild, and I thought that would be the perfect engaging read without presenting me with such a difficult POV right of the bat. Then I scanned the first few pages and saw they are in 2nd person POV (the "you went down a hall and someone shouted at you" variety). I went back to the TBR pile and snagged Kevin J. Anderson's Hidden Empire, which I had picked up when it was on sale for $2.99 (same way I picked up Terry Goodkind's Wizard's First Rule). This is what I get for being a good reader and trying to cut through the TBR pile instead of buying new shiny books. I have nothing of reliable bubble gum (perhaps with surprising staying power) material on hand.
And, of course, it goes without saying that writing hasn't really been happening lately. Hard thing to do when your left arm has a tendency to go numb when kept in the typing position. No, my life has been reduced to a giddy anticipation for shopping in the brand new super grocery store that just opened this morning. I wish I were kidding, but I actually had moments of night-before-Christmas-squee last night while putting together a shopping list. I fear I have not kept my distance from the suburban mom mask. It has absorbed me. Beyond that, one of the highlights of the past few days has been listening to the audio commentaries of Psych Season 2 and anticipating the 3rd season beginning on Friday.
The glamour of my life: revel in it.
I did end up going to the doctor on Friday. I knew it was going to be a rough time when Drew refused to settle down at any point before my doctor actually came in. The roughness increased when I realized that my doctor was frazzled for reasons of her own and "interviewed" me and listened to my complaints by skimming through (out loud, at least, so I could try to interject more info) my history on the joint issues and the various reports from the orthopedic specialist and my physical therapist. Each time I took breath to interrupt her assertively and make her listen that I didn't think it was bursitis again (a diagnosis I think she might have made before she even opened the exam room door), Drew would act out and I would have to address him instead and the moment was gone.
The only really aware thing my doctor did was to forego a steroid injection in my shoulder as when they tried that with my hip back in January, my symptoms escalated to severe piriformis syndrome and a mildly numb leg. She gave me oral steroids instead and the same NSAID from the previous merry-go-round adventure in January. By that point, I was indifferent to the process and figured it'd be best to try out her preferred treatment and be able to rule out anything obvious. That was Friday night.
Saturday, I woke to worse joint pain than before and horrendously tightening muscles. I put up with it through the day, taking it easy as much as I could. On Sunday, I went looking for all sorts of information on the particular steroid I had been prescribed to examine all those fun side effects. Sure enough severe muscle tightening and joint pain were listed as major side effects. So I groaned a bit, but decided to troop through (as I had also discovered Sunday morning after delaying the next dose a couple of hours that going cold-turkey was going to give me severe headaches and other unpleasantness).
Then, last night, the right hip and shoulder pain (which had been non-existant before Friday) grew to levels almost too uncomfortable for sleep, and this morning became so severe that in order to just sit and work at the desk, I had to take the pain med. The pain med cut away the worst of the pain while leaving behind swelling in my knee that prevents me from straightening my leg and gives a nice tingling sensation below the knee. Oh, and have I mentioned the occasional shortness of breath and mild dizziness? So, yeah, going back to the doctor this afternoon. My doctor is out, though, so I'll have the benefit of starting fresh with someone new at the clinic. And I'll be leaving Drew to hang out in the pool with my mom so he doesn't distract the process.
I was trying to figure out what book I wanted to bring with me, as going anywhere by myself during the weekday is something of a novelty and a book would be useful. As much as I want to read anything by Robert Charles Wilson, the only book I have on hand is Blind Lake, which begins in the POV of a character who has snorted coke just to be polite over the course of a mostly anonymous one-night stand. I'm all for flawed, interesting characters and kicking someone to their lowest spots to watch them struggle to get beyond it, but I just don't have the patience for it right now. So I remembered I had Karin Lowachee's first book Warchild, and I thought that would be the perfect engaging read without presenting me with such a difficult POV right of the bat. Then I scanned the first few pages and saw they are in 2nd person POV (the "you went down a hall and someone shouted at you" variety). I went back to the TBR pile and snagged Kevin J. Anderson's Hidden Empire, which I had picked up when it was on sale for $2.99 (same way I picked up Terry Goodkind's Wizard's First Rule). This is what I get for being a good reader and trying to cut through the TBR pile instead of buying new shiny books. I have nothing of reliable bubble gum (perhaps with surprising staying power) material on hand.
And, of course, it goes without saying that writing hasn't really been happening lately. Hard thing to do when your left arm has a tendency to go numb when kept in the typing position. No, my life has been reduced to a giddy anticipation for shopping in the brand new super grocery store that just opened this morning. I wish I were kidding, but I actually had moments of night-before-Christmas-squee last night while putting together a shopping list. I fear I have not kept my distance from the suburban mom mask. It has absorbed me. Beyond that, one of the highlights of the past few days has been listening to the audio commentaries of Psych Season 2 and anticipating the 3rd season beginning on Friday.
The glamour of my life: revel in it.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Let's Go to the Movies, Andrew
We took the Drew Monster to see Wall-E last Thursday night. It was a bit of a last minute idea. We had originally planned to take him to a Sunday morning or early afternoon matinee in another week or two in order to get a less crowded showing that would give him the run of a whole row of seats for when he gets antsy. (No matter how engrossed he is with a movie, he simply can't sit still for the hour and a half of watching it. He has to find new vantage points, new positions to sit in, etc.) But the timing was right that Momma and Daddy needed a treat STAT, and Drewbie was amenable to a special treat as well, even if it meant keeping him a good two hours past his bedtime.
Drew's been to a grand total of three movies in the theaters, including Wall-E, but he still knew what building we were heading toward and what it meant. He was very excited to see a "rawb har tee!" (robot on the big TV). To the point where, after we swung by to pick up tickets before heading elsewhere in the shopping complex to grab dinner, he didn't want to leave the car. We were all set to go to Rubio's, his favorite restaurant (boy can devour their kid's quesedilla in five minutes flat), but Drew was so excited about the movie, that he didn't want to leave the car unless it meant going to the theater. So Daddy hopped out to buy dinner to go and we'd eat in the car.
The entire time Mark was gone getting dinner, Drew kept saying, "Daddy buy corn!" I hadn't heard him say "corn" before, and we haven't had a lot of corn with dinner lately, so I thought maybe he was talking about corn chips or corn tortillas, which were the only ways I could think he had hear the word recently. But after wolfing down dinner and heading into the theater, I went to get refill for free our popcorn bag from a previous outing, and darned if the Drew Monster didn't exclaim with delight that we were getting "corn!"
As for the movie itself, we all loved it. Mark and I won't mind letting the boy watch this one dozens of times in a row as soon as it's out on DVD. That seems to be the only way we can catch everything we miss by having one eye on Drew and one eye on the movie. We were disappointed not to see any sort of preview for Pixar's next movie (which might be Toy Story 3?) because of all the childrens movies we've watched, Pixar seems to be the only company consistently producing anything that can stand up under repeated viewings for adults as well as children. Shame, really. It shouldn't be that rare.
Drew's been to a grand total of three movies in the theaters, including Wall-E, but he still knew what building we were heading toward and what it meant. He was very excited to see a "rawb har tee!" (robot on the big TV). To the point where, after we swung by to pick up tickets before heading elsewhere in the shopping complex to grab dinner, he didn't want to leave the car. We were all set to go to Rubio's, his favorite restaurant (boy can devour their kid's quesedilla in five minutes flat), but Drew was so excited about the movie, that he didn't want to leave the car unless it meant going to the theater. So Daddy hopped out to buy dinner to go and we'd eat in the car.
The entire time Mark was gone getting dinner, Drew kept saying, "Daddy buy corn!" I hadn't heard him say "corn" before, and we haven't had a lot of corn with dinner lately, so I thought maybe he was talking about corn chips or corn tortillas, which were the only ways I could think he had hear the word recently. But after wolfing down dinner and heading into the theater, I went to get refill for free our popcorn bag from a previous outing, and darned if the Drew Monster didn't exclaim with delight that we were getting "corn!"
As for the movie itself, we all loved it. Mark and I won't mind letting the boy watch this one dozens of times in a row as soon as it's out on DVD. That seems to be the only way we can catch everything we miss by having one eye on Drew and one eye on the movie. We were disappointed not to see any sort of preview for Pixar's next movie (which might be Toy Story 3?) because of all the childrens movies we've watched, Pixar seems to be the only company consistently producing anything that can stand up under repeated viewings for adults as well as children. Shame, really. It shouldn't be that rare.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
4 Things on a Sunday's Eve
Felt like mixing things up instead of posting a routine progress summary (and I have nothing coherent to say for more than a few sentences at a gulp). Here's the odd smattering of thoughts as this week winds to a close.
1. Wrote 1,141 very painful words today, but at least I'm over the block of starting this big turning point chapter. My total word count is 86,865 (43,865). Chugging right along, no matter how much it hurts.
2. Found the squick in Carter's Sade essays. A quick bit of information that any parent of small children likely understands: most reading of shorter things like magazines and short stories is probably going to be happening whilst the parental unit is sitting in the dubious privacy of the bathroom, making use of the facilities. Thus, a discussion of how Sade's characters indulge in coprophagy is even more uncomfortable than it would be outside of said room. (For those of you not familiar with the term or rusty in your Latin, beware before wandering off to Google. The information you get could very well be NSFW.)
3. Found in the latest issue of Discover: evidence of the government's very twisted sense of humor. In the 50s, unwitting patrons of a particular west coast brothel were subjected to a secret governmental experiment involving LSD. The code name of this experiment? Midnight Climax.
4. And one last writing tidbit, I guess. I wrote a funny that probably won't make it to the final draft as it's tone is clearly grounded in this cultural moment and sounds out of place in a cultural moment 90+ years in the future: Barrett's charm could only be described as an acquired taste, but she found his current attitude on target for stupid awards the likes of which she'd never consider Barrett eligible. Hmm. Sorry if that was one of those "you had to be there" things.
1. Wrote 1,141 very painful words today, but at least I'm over the block of starting this big turning point chapter. My total word count is 86,865 (43,865). Chugging right along, no matter how much it hurts.
2. Found the squick in Carter's Sade essays. A quick bit of information that any parent of small children likely understands: most reading of shorter things like magazines and short stories is probably going to be happening whilst the parental unit is sitting in the dubious privacy of the bathroom, making use of the facilities. Thus, a discussion of how Sade's characters indulge in coprophagy is even more uncomfortable than it would be outside of said room. (For those of you not familiar with the term or rusty in your Latin, beware before wandering off to Google. The information you get could very well be NSFW.)
3. Found in the latest issue of Discover: evidence of the government's very twisted sense of humor. In the 50s, unwitting patrons of a particular west coast brothel were subjected to a secret governmental experiment involving LSD. The code name of this experiment? Midnight Climax.
4. And one last writing tidbit, I guess. I wrote a funny that probably won't make it to the final draft as it's tone is clearly grounded in this cultural moment and sounds out of place in a cultural moment 90+ years in the future: Barrett's charm could only be described as an acquired taste, but she found his current attitude on target for stupid awards the likes of which she'd never consider Barrett eligible. Hmm. Sorry if that was one of those "you had to be there" things.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
I Am Now Hooked on xkcd
I've enjoyed wandering through xkcd.com, found much of the webcomic entertaining. But I was waiting. Waiting for the panel that absolutely did me in. A few came close, but I wanted to be completely seduced.
Wish granted.
Wish granted.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Scattered Thoughts on Reading Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber
I've had this collection of Carter's short stories and her book Love in my TBR pile for a while. I picked up The Bloody Chamber when I was doing research on the Interstitial Arts Foundation, particularly to figure out if my writing would be a match for their anthology. (Boy, howdy, not only was Carson's Learning just an unbelievably bad product once I was finished revising, it was also dripping so horribly with commercial fiction's lesser points that I will be shocked, shocked I tell you, if I learn that the poor IAF anthology sub readers got past the first page.)
I enjoyed the collection, though some of the stories struck me with that depressingly familiar head-scratching confusion I often get when I read short fiction. Each story is a retelling/re-imagining of a fairy tale or folklore trope. I could follow and enjoy the fairy tales much better than the folklore, most often due to the focus on wolves and werewolves. I never did get interested in that much, so I found myself lost in some of those stories.
Regardless of this reader's unfortunate inability to parse everything she read, it was quite clear that Carter is a master wordsmith. In fact, I'll likely reread many of these stories just to get a sense of how she created everyday images in non-everyday terms as well as evoking the fantastic just as well. Also, the establishing of character voice in "Puss-in-Boots" is a very compelling reason for a reread. Lots to learn, oh yes.
I think my favorite story is "The Bloody Chamber," for which the collection is named. It's a retelling of the Blackbeard story, which I've somehow managed to read a few renditions of without really intending to do so. At its heart, the base story is about women being punished for their curiosity despite having been all but told to be curious by the punisher (if I'm remembering the various dissections and discussions right). The lightest reading of it I've found is an erotic twist in which Blackbeard subjects his wife to a dungeon scene for exploring his naughty room. There is no death and no real pain or fear in that one.
Carter's "The Bloody Chamber," however, is very different, but it still keeps the kernel of the myth at its heart: the role a woman plays at the whim of a powerful man, including relinquishing her life into his hands. One detail of this story that my brain keeps dragging out to examine and seek more from this story is that the woman, a pianist, eventually starts an affair with the piano tuner Blackbeard has hired. From the moment of the consummation of their affair, the woman (in narration and in dialog) no longer calls the man by his name, she only calls him "my lover." In fact, he is one of only two characters who is ever named outside of their title or their relationship to the narrator. I find this fascinating and a brilliant tie-in to the themes of roles and selfishness and self-discovery the story employs.
A juxtaposition that caught my eye and worked to the detriment of one story and the enhancement of the other was the order of the two Beauty & the Beast retellings. The first, "The Courtship of Mr. Lyons" was fine, and I enjoyed it well enough, particularly how it twists the tale in on itself and almost has Beauty trap the Beast as such and possibly doom herself to the same fight through the sins of self-absorption and narcissism, exactly what got the Beast in so much trouble himself. But then I read "The Tiger's Bride," and the manner of that retelling of the same tale was far and above the better of the two that I can't help but think of "Courtship" as a light, fluffy story that doesn't really do much beyond a clever writer's trick.
The collection became a challenge for me, though, once I started "The Erl-King." I couldn't place the parent text. And the last line just thoroughly confounds me. Maybe I'll read something later that will clue me in. And then came the Snow White story "The Snow Child." I could offer a couple of readings on it, but they are so inextricably linked with my own particular experiences and viewpoint that I'm not sure they even approach the authorial intent, let alone the accepted literary wisdom. (Note to self: actually read some Carter litcrit soon.) The collection ends in a series of stories that run vampire-werewolf-werewolf/Red Riding Hood-werewolf/vampire/Alice in Wonderland set that, as I mentioned above, gets decently far away from my interests and background knowledge for me to comment much beyond, "Yes, good story, that."
A couple of tiny details I picked up on that I hope were intentional, but if not were beautiful accidents: the heavy use of the word "somnambulism" and its kin, and the tie-back toward the end of the last story to the first story with the use of the phrase "the bloody chamber."
I'm working my way through my mother's copy of Carter's The Sadeian Woman, a collection of non-fiction about the Marquis de Sade (which manages to be scintillating instead of squicky), and there is that copy of Love still sitting in the TBR pile that I'm looking forward to reading. I'm not sure I get the "interstitial" label that the IAF in particular is keen to give Carter, but most of my reading since the CL debacle has informed me that my idea of insterstitial is far too heavily grounded in commericial fiction to mesh with theirs.
I enjoyed the collection, though some of the stories struck me with that depressingly familiar head-scratching confusion I often get when I read short fiction. Each story is a retelling/re-imagining of a fairy tale or folklore trope. I could follow and enjoy the fairy tales much better than the folklore, most often due to the focus on wolves and werewolves. I never did get interested in that much, so I found myself lost in some of those stories.
Regardless of this reader's unfortunate inability to parse everything she read, it was quite clear that Carter is a master wordsmith. In fact, I'll likely reread many of these stories just to get a sense of how she created everyday images in non-everyday terms as well as evoking the fantastic just as well. Also, the establishing of character voice in "Puss-in-Boots" is a very compelling reason for a reread. Lots to learn, oh yes.
I think my favorite story is "The Bloody Chamber," for which the collection is named. It's a retelling of the Blackbeard story, which I've somehow managed to read a few renditions of without really intending to do so. At its heart, the base story is about women being punished for their curiosity despite having been all but told to be curious by the punisher (if I'm remembering the various dissections and discussions right). The lightest reading of it I've found is an erotic twist in which Blackbeard subjects his wife to a dungeon scene for exploring his naughty room. There is no death and no real pain or fear in that one.
Carter's "The Bloody Chamber," however, is very different, but it still keeps the kernel of the myth at its heart: the role a woman plays at the whim of a powerful man, including relinquishing her life into his hands. One detail of this story that my brain keeps dragging out to examine and seek more from this story is that the woman, a pianist, eventually starts an affair with the piano tuner Blackbeard has hired. From the moment of the consummation of their affair, the woman (in narration and in dialog) no longer calls the man by his name, she only calls him "my lover." In fact, he is one of only two characters who is ever named outside of their title or their relationship to the narrator. I find this fascinating and a brilliant tie-in to the themes of roles and selfishness and self-discovery the story employs.
A juxtaposition that caught my eye and worked to the detriment of one story and the enhancement of the other was the order of the two Beauty & the Beast retellings. The first, "The Courtship of Mr. Lyons" was fine, and I enjoyed it well enough, particularly how it twists the tale in on itself and almost has Beauty trap the Beast as such and possibly doom herself to the same fight through the sins of self-absorption and narcissism, exactly what got the Beast in so much trouble himself. But then I read "The Tiger's Bride," and the manner of that retelling of the same tale was far and above the better of the two that I can't help but think of "Courtship" as a light, fluffy story that doesn't really do much beyond a clever writer's trick.
The collection became a challenge for me, though, once I started "The Erl-King." I couldn't place the parent text. And the last line just thoroughly confounds me. Maybe I'll read something later that will clue me in. And then came the Snow White story "The Snow Child." I could offer a couple of readings on it, but they are so inextricably linked with my own particular experiences and viewpoint that I'm not sure they even approach the authorial intent, let alone the accepted literary wisdom. (Note to self: actually read some Carter litcrit soon.) The collection ends in a series of stories that run vampire-werewolf-werewolf/Red Riding Hood-werewolf/vampire/Alice in Wonderland set that, as I mentioned above, gets decently far away from my interests and background knowledge for me to comment much beyond, "Yes, good story, that."
A couple of tiny details I picked up on that I hope were intentional, but if not were beautiful accidents: the heavy use of the word "somnambulism" and its kin, and the tie-back toward the end of the last story to the first story with the use of the phrase "the bloody chamber."
I'm working my way through my mother's copy of Carter's The Sadeian Woman, a collection of non-fiction about the Marquis de Sade (which manages to be scintillating instead of squicky), and there is that copy of Love still sitting in the TBR pile that I'm looking forward to reading. I'm not sure I get the "interstitial" label that the IAF in particular is keen to give Carter, but most of my reading since the CL debacle has informed me that my idea of insterstitial is far too heavily grounded in commericial fiction to mesh with theirs.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Finding the Tell
Satire is a tricky thing sometimes. It can be so subtle that otherwise intelligent people can't find the clue for the right reading and go a bit kookoo thinking that what they're reading (or watching) is meant to be serious.
I first encountered this phenonmenon with the movie True Lies. I was around 16 when I saw it, and watched the first fifteen or twenty minutes through a standard action movie with amusing sidekick moments filter. Thus I was a bit perplexed by Charlton Heston's over the top, eyepatched spy boss character. However, once Ahnold chases (on horseback) the Big Bad (on a motorcycle) up to the roof of a building, I was beginning to suspect that there was an eye wink I had missed. Then when the Governator tries to get his horse to jump from one rooftop to the next in pursuit of the badguy, I finally got the joke. True Lies is no standard action movie with big stunts and crazy special effects. It's a satire of same, designed specifically to show the rediculousness of the genre. I started paying attention to the feedback of the movie and realized that critics bemoaning the film's lack of believability so did not Get It.
Looking back on that experience, I realized that the first tell that the movie is satire can be found in the title: True Lies. The second was the parenthetical "perfect Arabic" in the subtitle explaining Arnold had escaped a guard's attention by claiming to be lost while desperately seeking a Water Closet. I was young, though, and not accustomed to a big-budget product being something other than its obvious packaging. But I was hooked on this concept ever since watching that movie, particularly when it comes to satirizing action movies, a mainstream flogging of the Gary Stu phenomenon that puts even the most inane self-insertion fanfiction to shame. (Don't get me started on the Jack Ryan movies, let alone the books.)
Some movies are going to be obvious, moving from satire into baldfaced parody (see all the Austin Powers movies). Some will, like True Lies provide early tells but front as the Real Deal. Finding those first few tells is vital (for Shoot 'Em Up, it was the protagonist killing a bad guy with a carrot to the jugular; for Wanted, it was the fact that a society of weavers--no shit, weavers--had formed a fraternity of assassins) for the best experience of the movie or book.
Then there are a subset of books and movies that are so exaggerated that you think it must be satire, that you've found tell after tell--only to realize that it's likely meant in all seriousness. For example, I'm still unsure about Independence Day as action satire because there are just enough moments in which the movie takes itself seriously to confuse the issue. Sometimes, over the course of a first exposure, you can determine without a doubt that you are not reading satire but Serious Genre Fiction. This was my experience with Ghost by John Ringo. I went into that book not knowing anything about the author or his previous books. I laughed my way through the first third of the first act, thinking it was superb satire to the pain of parody at points of a particular mindset. But when all the other characters played straight-faced along with the protagonist's thinking, I realized I wasn't reading satire, and I stopped laughing. (But I kept reading, mostly due to a "deer-in-headlights" way. See this review for more on this topic.)
On-line essays are a real bear in the satire navigation department. With a book or a movie, you have a lot of extraneous information to provide supporting evidence of a tell or non-tell. In a blog post or comment, all you have are words. No soundtrack or scenery, no cover art or genre placement. Just words. So when someone goes on a tear about an issue, using heightened rhetoric and overstretched arguments and logical two-steps, it's hard to tell if it's real or satire. In these cases, reading becomes an exercise in finding the tell of truth rather than the tell of satire.
For example, the comment by John C Wingate in this round-up of opinions about the most recent gender bias in SF kerfuffle (you'll need to scroll down to the 7th commenter) had some very astute readers considering his words in a satirical light at first, only to headdesk when they realized, to Wright, truer words were never written. My satire radar is not very sophisticated when it comes to on-line essays and rants, so I read it at face-value only seeing their comments about potential satire afterward. Then I went back to see if I could find the tell of truth.
I thought it might be this:
That word "duties" made my AP English Rhetoric and Comp Spidey Sense tingle. It's hard for a feminist of any stripe to use such a word to describe child-rearing and housekeeping, even in jest. I thought "duties" would be a bit much for even the most subtle piece of satirical genius. But then that whole "not to like babies" bit is so over the top with rhetoric (and rife with the logical fallacy that, if women won't taking care of the babies, no one will), that I decided the piece could still be read as masterful satire at that point.
I settled on this as the tell:
Because the example, if used and applied correctly--particularly in a stunning piece of satire--would then posit that, because we already have some women writers in the field, this prejudice (should it ever have existed) is already gone. We've broken the gender barrier. We've had our Brown v Board of Education moment and everything's now just a matter of talent. But he kind of skips that to go right for a "prejudice can't last in the free-market, because talent will out" mashup of logic that indicates to me he realized to so baldly state that any imbalance occurs because women just aren't as talented is impolitic, and changes his tactics to "well, dearies, iffin there is a problem, just be meek and humble and trust in the power of capitalism to set you free." That bit could be good satire, as well, but of a different sort than the one the original thread of logic was building on.
There comes a point, however, when faced with something so exaggerated yet genuine, that the piece becomes funny again. I couldn't get there with Ghost, but I got there with Wright's comments. The starving children in China homage ("In a world where women are stoned to death for wearing fingernail polish, complaints about lesser offenses sound shallow.") is particularly priceless.
(By the way, if you want some current numbers on gender representations in nearly every aspect of the SF field, look here.)
I first encountered this phenonmenon with the movie True Lies. I was around 16 when I saw it, and watched the first fifteen or twenty minutes through a standard action movie with amusing sidekick moments filter. Thus I was a bit perplexed by Charlton Heston's over the top, eyepatched spy boss character. However, once Ahnold chases (on horseback) the Big Bad (on a motorcycle) up to the roof of a building, I was beginning to suspect that there was an eye wink I had missed. Then when the Governator tries to get his horse to jump from one rooftop to the next in pursuit of the badguy, I finally got the joke. True Lies is no standard action movie with big stunts and crazy special effects. It's a satire of same, designed specifically to show the rediculousness of the genre. I started paying attention to the feedback of the movie and realized that critics bemoaning the film's lack of believability so did not Get It.
Looking back on that experience, I realized that the first tell that the movie is satire can be found in the title: True Lies. The second was the parenthetical "perfect Arabic" in the subtitle explaining Arnold had escaped a guard's attention by claiming to be lost while desperately seeking a Water Closet. I was young, though, and not accustomed to a big-budget product being something other than its obvious packaging. But I was hooked on this concept ever since watching that movie, particularly when it comes to satirizing action movies, a mainstream flogging of the Gary Stu phenomenon that puts even the most inane self-insertion fanfiction to shame. (Don't get me started on the Jack Ryan movies, let alone the books.)
Some movies are going to be obvious, moving from satire into baldfaced parody (see all the Austin Powers movies). Some will, like True Lies provide early tells but front as the Real Deal. Finding those first few tells is vital (for Shoot 'Em Up, it was the protagonist killing a bad guy with a carrot to the jugular; for Wanted, it was the fact that a society of weavers--no shit, weavers--had formed a fraternity of assassins) for the best experience of the movie or book.
Then there are a subset of books and movies that are so exaggerated that you think it must be satire, that you've found tell after tell--only to realize that it's likely meant in all seriousness. For example, I'm still unsure about Independence Day as action satire because there are just enough moments in which the movie takes itself seriously to confuse the issue. Sometimes, over the course of a first exposure, you can determine without a doubt that you are not reading satire but Serious Genre Fiction. This was my experience with Ghost by John Ringo. I went into that book not knowing anything about the author or his previous books. I laughed my way through the first third of the first act, thinking it was superb satire to the pain of parody at points of a particular mindset. But when all the other characters played straight-faced along with the protagonist's thinking, I realized I wasn't reading satire, and I stopped laughing. (But I kept reading, mostly due to a "deer-in-headlights" way. See this review for more on this topic.)
On-line essays are a real bear in the satire navigation department. With a book or a movie, you have a lot of extraneous information to provide supporting evidence of a tell or non-tell. In a blog post or comment, all you have are words. No soundtrack or scenery, no cover art or genre placement. Just words. So when someone goes on a tear about an issue, using heightened rhetoric and overstretched arguments and logical two-steps, it's hard to tell if it's real or satire. In these cases, reading becomes an exercise in finding the tell of truth rather than the tell of satire.
For example, the comment by John C Wingate in this round-up of opinions about the most recent gender bias in SF kerfuffle (you'll need to scroll down to the 7th commenter) had some very astute readers considering his words in a satirical light at first, only to headdesk when they realized, to Wright, truer words were never written. My satire radar is not very sophisticated when it comes to on-line essays and rants, so I read it at face-value only seeing their comments about potential satire afterward. Then I went back to see if I could find the tell of truth.
I thought it might be this:
For example, my writer-wife, L. Jagi Lamplighter, has not sold the same number of novels to date as have I. She took some years off to raise our children. I am also older than she, and started writing earlier. Likewise, if even a few woman authors take off a few years to tend to other duties, the statistical impact will be disproportionate. What can one do? Ask my very feminine and maternal wife, or women like her, not to like babies? Good luck with that.
That word "duties" made my AP English Rhetoric and Comp Spidey Sense tingle. It's hard for a feminist of any stripe to use such a word to describe child-rearing and housekeeping, even in jest. I thought "duties" would be a bit much for even the most subtle piece of satirical genius. But then that whole "not to like babies" bit is so over the top with rhetoric (and rife with the logical fallacy that, if women won't taking care of the babies, no one will), that I decided the piece could still be read as masterful satire at that point.
I settled on this as the tell:
There used to be a color barrier in baseball. But when Jackie Robinson broke that barrier, suddenly the managers of ball clubs found that they could no longer afford, could no longer financially afford, to exclude the pool of talent presented by the black athletes. A team who called upon a wider talent pool than its competition could, in the long run, outperform a team who restricted their talents to "whites-only."
So, I submit that there is a natural force in the free market, a profit motive, that makes prejudice of any kind too expensive to maintain in the long run. Talent will always prevail, eventually, because truly talented people never give up.
Because the example, if used and applied correctly--particularly in a stunning piece of satire--would then posit that, because we already have some women writers in the field, this prejudice (should it ever have existed) is already gone. We've broken the gender barrier. We've had our Brown v Board of Education moment and everything's now just a matter of talent. But he kind of skips that to go right for a "prejudice can't last in the free-market, because talent will out" mashup of logic that indicates to me he realized to so baldly state that any imbalance occurs because women just aren't as talented is impolitic, and changes his tactics to "well, dearies, iffin there is a problem, just be meek and humble and trust in the power of capitalism to set you free." That bit could be good satire, as well, but of a different sort than the one the original thread of logic was building on.
There comes a point, however, when faced with something so exaggerated yet genuine, that the piece becomes funny again. I couldn't get there with Ghost, but I got there with Wright's comments. The starving children in China homage ("In a world where women are stoned to death for wearing fingernail polish, complaints about lesser offenses sound shallow.") is particularly priceless.
(By the way, if you want some current numbers on gender representations in nearly every aspect of the SF field, look here.)
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