Kyle Michel Sullivan's Blog: https://www.myirishnovel.com/, page 203
March 16, 2016
On my way...
At JFK awaiting my flight to Dublin. This glorious packing job keeps expanding, so I may get to do no looking around the country, outside of County Wicklow. I've never been there, before, so that's cool...but I was hoping to be done Saturday and drive to The Cliffs of Moher on Sunday. It's about a 4 hour trip, each way, so I'd have to have the day to do it. Dammit.
I'm also awaiting the moment when I can check to see if I can change my seat. Aer Lingus wouldn't let me select my own...I guess since I booked through JetBlue...so I wound up at the back of the plane at a window. On long flights I prefer the aisle. Makes it easier to get up and stretch, and offers a bit more elbow room.
But that's a minimal complaint for getting a free trip to Ireland...even if it is just for a few days.
My plane just arrived and lots of Irish kids are getting off. Mostly boys in their teens, like it's a school outing...which it may be. Easter is early, this year, and on top of St. Pat's, tomorrow...next week is going to be massively insane.
BTW, here's how NYC looked as I flew in. I've been here so many times and it still amazes me at how huge the city is, and this doesn't count how we first crossed Long Island to turn around over the ocean.It just goes on and on and on...
March 14, 2016
Today was tax day...
So my brain be deaded and blank, so I bring thee another missive about books, antiquarian --
Absences "Lost, Stolen or Shredded": Rick Gekoski's Stories of Missing Works of Art and Literature
By Laurence Worms
As you may already have realised, I like books which have a story to tell. By this I mean not just the book’s own internal narrative, but a copy of the book with its own individual history. Not necessarily a fine and obviously important provenance (although that’s always very welcome), but just a tale of its own career in the world. I’m not deterred by a book with a previous owner’s inscription, far from it – this can lead into that narrative and document some evidence of the book’s initial audience and reception. Who bought this book when it first came out? Where did the book fit into that world rather than ours?
Sometimes there is evidently a story – but no answer at all. I was just cataloguing a bound assembly of views of nineteenth-century Torquay, one of those ubiquitous albums produced by Rock & Co. of Walbrook (William Frederick Rock, his brothers Henry and Richard – all Devon men themselves – and their brother-in-law, John Payne). In this case a collection of fifty small vignette views published by the firm at various dates between 1850 and 1876, bound up as an ad hoc publication presumably aimed at the hordes of summer visitors to that fashionable resort. Pretty enough. Interesting enough. And not far into the book is a view of Belgrave Road, Torquay, on which a childish hand has pencilled “Our House” – a three-storey villa on the eastern side of the road shown on the extreme left of the image and clumsily ticked with the same pencil.
I hurry back to the front of the book (and the back and all points in between) – but no clue at all as to who owned the book, or who lived in this ample house, with its view of the sea to the south. Could it have been one of the Kirkpatrick girls, daughters of Temple Kirkpatrick, “retired diplomatist”, then living at “Sanremo” on Belgrave Road? Or one of the Pulford children at “Rosenau”? Or perhaps a child on holiday just passing through? Who knows? I certainly don’t – but I can well imagine the excitement of a child at having his or her house pointed out in a handsome book – the pleasure of the parent in pointing it out. I weigh up the possibilities of pursuing this further: a weight of work out of all proportion to the value of the book and ultimately probably not possible. We could almost certainly establish who was living in the house (which I suspect no longer exists) in the 1870s, but the inscription could have been added many years later. Why didn’t someone write their name in it?
A frustrating absence, a story that isn’t, but does it matter? Something of a theme this week with the publication of Rick Gekoski’s latest book, “Lost, Stolen or Shredded : Stories of Missing Works of Art and Literature” (Profile Books). A tame and modest title, but we have certain expectations of Rick, here (once more) amply fulfilled. The book simply grabs us by the collar and demands attention. It opens with, “He collected absences. For him they were more intense, vibrant and real than they presences they shadowed …” and takes us straight to join Franz Kafka and Max Brod queuing at a crowded Louvre to see, not the Mona Lisa, but the gap on the wall where the Mona Lisa used to be (after it was stolen in 1911). Rick is always compelling. He has that extraordinary knack of subsuming real scholarship and genuinely original thinking into essays that read like stories, stories that are as easy as conversation.
We all know him as a great talker – the best I know in a book-trade full of good talkers. It’s always a highlight of the Modern First Editions course at theLondon Rare Books School to take the students over to see Rick and let them sit at his feet for an hour or two. A mine of experience and reflection willingly shared. But what is so skilled about his writing is that it replicates this conversational rhythm and fluidity on the page – and that’s not easy, not easy at all. Talk is flat without nuance, expression, emphasis and inflection: this has to be engineered back in to make it work in print.
I’m not going to summarise the rest of the book, because you are all going to go out and buy it and find out for yourselves. Why read me, when you could read this? Fifteen stories. Those of us in the rare book world or in any way concerned with literary history or biography will buy it for “The Archive of the Penetralium of Mystery” alone – “When first encountered, an archive reminds me of a monkfish”. Why wouldn’t it?
(The safari continues! During his time as President of the ABA Laurence Worms shared with us his thoughts about the antiquarian book trade in his blog "The President on Safari". When Brian Lake succeeded him as ABA President in April 2013 Laurence decided to continue his blog and gave it a new name. Enjoy more great stories and amusing anecdotes about rare book dealers and collectors and follow “The Bookhunter on Safari”.)
Absences "Lost, Stolen or Shredded": Rick Gekoski's Stories of Missing Works of Art and Literature
By Laurence Worms
As you may already have realised, I like books which have a story to tell. By this I mean not just the book’s own internal narrative, but a copy of the book with its own individual history. Not necessarily a fine and obviously important provenance (although that’s always very welcome), but just a tale of its own career in the world. I’m not deterred by a book with a previous owner’s inscription, far from it – this can lead into that narrative and document some evidence of the book’s initial audience and reception. Who bought this book when it first came out? Where did the book fit into that world rather than ours?
Sometimes there is evidently a story – but no answer at all. I was just cataloguing a bound assembly of views of nineteenth-century Torquay, one of those ubiquitous albums produced by Rock & Co. of Walbrook (William Frederick Rock, his brothers Henry and Richard – all Devon men themselves – and their brother-in-law, John Payne). In this case a collection of fifty small vignette views published by the firm at various dates between 1850 and 1876, bound up as an ad hoc publication presumably aimed at the hordes of summer visitors to that fashionable resort. Pretty enough. Interesting enough. And not far into the book is a view of Belgrave Road, Torquay, on which a childish hand has pencilled “Our House” – a three-storey villa on the eastern side of the road shown on the extreme left of the image and clumsily ticked with the same pencil.
I hurry back to the front of the book (and the back and all points in between) – but no clue at all as to who owned the book, or who lived in this ample house, with its view of the sea to the south. Could it have been one of the Kirkpatrick girls, daughters of Temple Kirkpatrick, “retired diplomatist”, then living at “Sanremo” on Belgrave Road? Or one of the Pulford children at “Rosenau”? Or perhaps a child on holiday just passing through? Who knows? I certainly don’t – but I can well imagine the excitement of a child at having his or her house pointed out in a handsome book – the pleasure of the parent in pointing it out. I weigh up the possibilities of pursuing this further: a weight of work out of all proportion to the value of the book and ultimately probably not possible. We could almost certainly establish who was living in the house (which I suspect no longer exists) in the 1870s, but the inscription could have been added many years later. Why didn’t someone write their name in it?
A frustrating absence, a story that isn’t, but does it matter? Something of a theme this week with the publication of Rick Gekoski’s latest book, “Lost, Stolen or Shredded : Stories of Missing Works of Art and Literature” (Profile Books). A tame and modest title, but we have certain expectations of Rick, here (once more) amply fulfilled. The book simply grabs us by the collar and demands attention. It opens with, “He collected absences. For him they were more intense, vibrant and real than they presences they shadowed …” and takes us straight to join Franz Kafka and Max Brod queuing at a crowded Louvre to see, not the Mona Lisa, but the gap on the wall where the Mona Lisa used to be (after it was stolen in 1911). Rick is always compelling. He has that extraordinary knack of subsuming real scholarship and genuinely original thinking into essays that read like stories, stories that are as easy as conversation.
We all know him as a great talker – the best I know in a book-trade full of good talkers. It’s always a highlight of the Modern First Editions course at theLondon Rare Books School to take the students over to see Rick and let them sit at his feet for an hour or two. A mine of experience and reflection willingly shared. But what is so skilled about his writing is that it replicates this conversational rhythm and fluidity on the page – and that’s not easy, not easy at all. Talk is flat without nuance, expression, emphasis and inflection: this has to be engineered back in to make it work in print.
I’m not going to summarise the rest of the book, because you are all going to go out and buy it and find out for yourselves. Why read me, when you could read this? Fifteen stories. Those of us in the rare book world or in any way concerned with literary history or biography will buy it for “The Archive of the Penetralium of Mystery” alone – “When first encountered, an archive reminds me of a monkfish”. Why wouldn’t it?
(The safari continues! During his time as President of the ABA Laurence Worms shared with us his thoughts about the antiquarian book trade in his blog "The President on Safari". When Brian Lake succeeded him as ABA President in April 2013 Laurence decided to continue his blog and gave it a new name. Enjoy more great stories and amusing anecdotes about rare book dealers and collectors and follow “The Bookhunter on Safari”.)
March 13, 2016
Damn you, DST...
We do not like Daylight Savings Time. Never have. I think it stems mainly from me being a night person...someone whose perfect day starts at 10 or 11 am and goes till 2am. DST means later nights and earlier days and throws me off.
When I worked at Book Soup, in West Hollywood, and did night shifts till midnight, as I walked home half the time I would stop at Norm's on La Cienega and have breakfast. Loved it. Loved how peaceful LA was at that time of the morning. And if it was raining, even better.
My first job in LA required me to be there at 8am. Hated it. My brain did not like to function for the first hour, but it had to; I was the only one in the office except for the owner. At least she paid well. Between that and support from a couple of friends, I was able to get back on my feet after a rough exit from Houston.
My favorite time to write is beginning at 2pm and going till I can't...which is usually 7 or 8. There have been occasions where I'll write until midnight, but then I have a hell of a time shutting my brain down and can't get to sleep till about 4. It's all very scattershot, and I whine a lot about my own inconsistency...but it works, for the most part.
Today, rather than fight with DST, I reformatted Bobby Carapisi. Mainly as an exercise. The formatting I published it in isn't right, so I shifted it to how other books look -- justified paragraphs and fewer white pages and slightly wider margins with the page numbers at the top corners instead of the bottom center. I'll be doing The Vanishing of Owen Taylor in the same way, and I found there were aspects of Word I didn't know how to do. So I went looking for information on how to do them.
Like controlling the page numbering better, using section breaks. I didn't know you have to unlink them, which is why I couldn't control the numbering. Now I know how...and I'm thinking of making a hardcover edition of BC just to see how it turns out.
I'm also thinking of doing a crowd-funder to see if I can get me enough money to stay in Northern Ireland for 2 months and get Place of Safety going, again. But I need to find out how much I'd require, first...like enough to pay my bills in the US and living expenses in Derry and Belfast.
That part I can do...so maybe I will, just to see...
When I worked at Book Soup, in West Hollywood, and did night shifts till midnight, as I walked home half the time I would stop at Norm's on La Cienega and have breakfast. Loved it. Loved how peaceful LA was at that time of the morning. And if it was raining, even better.
My first job in LA required me to be there at 8am. Hated it. My brain did not like to function for the first hour, but it had to; I was the only one in the office except for the owner. At least she paid well. Between that and support from a couple of friends, I was able to get back on my feet after a rough exit from Houston.
My favorite time to write is beginning at 2pm and going till I can't...which is usually 7 or 8. There have been occasions where I'll write until midnight, but then I have a hell of a time shutting my brain down and can't get to sleep till about 4. It's all very scattershot, and I whine a lot about my own inconsistency...but it works, for the most part.
Today, rather than fight with DST, I reformatted Bobby Carapisi. Mainly as an exercise. The formatting I published it in isn't right, so I shifted it to how other books look -- justified paragraphs and fewer white pages and slightly wider margins with the page numbers at the top corners instead of the bottom center. I'll be doing The Vanishing of Owen Taylor in the same way, and I found there were aspects of Word I didn't know how to do. So I went looking for information on how to do them.
Like controlling the page numbering better, using section breaks. I didn't know you have to unlink them, which is why I couldn't control the numbering. Now I know how...and I'm thinking of making a hardcover edition of BC just to see how it turns out.
I'm also thinking of doing a crowd-funder to see if I can get me enough money to stay in Northern Ireland for 2 months and get Place of Safety going, again. But I need to find out how much I'd require, first...like enough to pay my bills in the US and living expenses in Derry and Belfast.
That part I can do...so maybe I will, just to see...
March 12, 2016
Grr...
I'm a bit ticked off at the British Film Institute. I'm a member but that's not doing me a whole lot of good. They have a series of short films about life in Northern Ireland in the 60s and 70s that I can't access because I'm in the US. Nor are they posted on YouTube, though lots of other bits about NI are. And they haven't responded to an e-mail I sent asking if there was some way for me to get access. I just sent another one, but I'm not feeling hopeful.
My trip back to Buffalo was not the best I've ever had. It was my intention to check my bag early -- I have to; I had a knife with me and can't take that on the plane -- and have Panda Express, which I like. But they're past security. And when I asked a JetBlue rep about early bag-check, he said they don't do that. In fact, JetBlue's counter didn't even open till 9pm, after all but a couple restaurants closed.
I wound up nibbling at another nasty set of enchiladas in New Mexico. Does that state actually require tortillas to be so tough you have to use a knife to cut into them? And since when is salsa sweet? What's even sadder -- the guacamole was nothing but a mashed up avocado and some onion flakes. For that, I paid $30...and I couldn't even finish it.
Threw the whole trip off. While we left on time, we also had the least personable flight attendants ever, and all the lights were turned off. The only enjoyable aspect of the flight was I got the extra-space seat so could use my laptop.
Well...I also saw an interesting bit on their system about the Redbull Cliff Diving competition in Portugal. This is just a hint of what it was all about.
Them folks is crazy.
My flight from JFK was late, so I didn't get home till nearly noon, yesterday, and even after a nice hot shower and 5 hour nap I was still fuzzy-brained. Not unusual for me. But I do think I'd be better off at the end of these trips if I built up my stamina and dropped a few pounds. So I've already aimed for that...eating less and exercising some. Not a lot, right now; I'm an old fart who's fighting off his lazy genes.
And I got lots of those genes to fight off.
My trip back to Buffalo was not the best I've ever had. It was my intention to check my bag early -- I have to; I had a knife with me and can't take that on the plane -- and have Panda Express, which I like. But they're past security. And when I asked a JetBlue rep about early bag-check, he said they don't do that. In fact, JetBlue's counter didn't even open till 9pm, after all but a couple restaurants closed.
I wound up nibbling at another nasty set of enchiladas in New Mexico. Does that state actually require tortillas to be so tough you have to use a knife to cut into them? And since when is salsa sweet? What's even sadder -- the guacamole was nothing but a mashed up avocado and some onion flakes. For that, I paid $30...and I couldn't even finish it.
Threw the whole trip off. While we left on time, we also had the least personable flight attendants ever, and all the lights were turned off. The only enjoyable aspect of the flight was I got the extra-space seat so could use my laptop.
Well...I also saw an interesting bit on their system about the Redbull Cliff Diving competition in Portugal. This is just a hint of what it was all about.
Them folks is crazy.
My flight from JFK was late, so I didn't get home till nearly noon, yesterday, and even after a nice hot shower and 5 hour nap I was still fuzzy-brained. Not unusual for me. But I do think I'd be better off at the end of these trips if I built up my stamina and dropped a few pounds. So I've already aimed for that...eating less and exercising some. Not a lot, right now; I'm an old fart who's fighting off his lazy genes.
And I got lots of those genes to fight off.
March 10, 2016
Quickie post before Starbuck's throws me out...
Had lots to do for the Ireland trip, next week, so encamped at Starbucks to use their WiFi and wade into cup after cup of hot tea.
I also made a quick trip to the Balloon Museum, north of Albuquerque. It's where the festival takes place and all the balloons launch.
This is the entrance. That's a model of the Graf Zeppelin up top. There's a self-guided tour in no particular order
This would be a child's paradise, and is still fun for adults.
More to come, later. Now it's time to turn in my rental car and go the the airport.
And finish my work using the Airport's WiFi.
I also made a quick trip to the Balloon Museum, north of Albuquerque. It's where the festival takes place and all the balloons launch.
This is the entrance. That's a model of the Graf Zeppelin up top. There's a self-guided tour in no particular orderThis would be a child's paradise, and is still fun for adults.
More to come, later. Now it's time to turn in my rental car and go the the airport.
And finish my work using the Airport's WiFi.
March 9, 2016
More theft but why not?
I stole this off a site called Cinemagorgeous. It's amazing...
The value of “Why Not?”
I like science fiction a lot.
I appreciate the name “science fiction” because it combines two things I very much enjoy. It’s a good name, though there is another term for the genre that is even better. “Speculative fiction.” That’s a descriptor that gets it just right.
Science fiction speculates. It asks new questions.
Realistic fiction has always been good at asking “why?” Why does a marriage fall apart? Why do people define themselves by what they do for a living? Why does a young person ruin a perfectly good relationship for no apparent reason?
These are good questions, worth asking. But they’re not the only questions.
One of the prime virtues of speculative fiction is that it has always been willing to ask not only “why” but “why not?” If things are this way, why are they not another way?
Most Victorians couldn’t possibly imagine going to the moon, but Jules Verne was comfortable asking “why not?” Of course, he had nowhere near the right answer. But he asked the question. So did the great filmmaker George Méliès when he (taking inspiration from Verne) made a journey to the moon the subject of cinema’s first science fiction film. And then of course the Russians shot Sputnik into space and a young president named Kennedy posited the same question with a whole new kind of urgency. And this time the question was ready for a real answer.
One giant leap for mankind, yes, but it was a mental leap that writers of speculative fiction (and their readers) had been willing to take before most sensible people would even entertain it.
Captain Kirk has a computer that he can talk to that will answer his questions. If he wants to know when something happened, or a bit of science he doesn’t understand, all he has to do is ask. A lot of us have a device in our pocket right now that does the same thing, but cellphones didn’t exist when the Star Trek design team were conceiving of them.
Good questions lead you to more good questions. Suppose humans were able to work together as a cohesive team in which people of all backgrounds were able to contribute equally? I mean, really, why not? Star Trek was willing to ask that question earlier than most, and asked it so potently that when Nichelle Nichols was thinking of leaving the show she was urged to stay by a man named Martin Luther King. He felt it was important that young black people were able to see Uhura on TV and feel that the human future was one they could be seen as participants in. Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry was very moved when Nichols told him this, saying he was glad someone understood what it was that he was trying to do.
King understood Star Trek because he was very good at asking important questions, questions that can change the way people think. “I have a dream…” is the beginning to one of the best “why nots” in history. Dreams are, by the way, excellent speculative fiction. They’ll take something seemingly implausible and run with it more than our waking minds would usually put up with. When we wake up we tend to shake our heads and dismiss it as a flight of fancy, but sometimes, a dream will leave us pondering the all important question. Surely such a thing could never be. But then again… “why not?”
The value of “Why Not?”
I like science fiction a lot.
I appreciate the name “science fiction” because it combines two things I very much enjoy. It’s a good name, though there is another term for the genre that is even better. “Speculative fiction.” That’s a descriptor that gets it just right.
Science fiction speculates. It asks new questions.
Realistic fiction has always been good at asking “why?” Why does a marriage fall apart? Why do people define themselves by what they do for a living? Why does a young person ruin a perfectly good relationship for no apparent reason?
These are good questions, worth asking. But they’re not the only questions.
One of the prime virtues of speculative fiction is that it has always been willing to ask not only “why” but “why not?” If things are this way, why are they not another way?
Most Victorians couldn’t possibly imagine going to the moon, but Jules Verne was comfortable asking “why not?” Of course, he had nowhere near the right answer. But he asked the question. So did the great filmmaker George Méliès when he (taking inspiration from Verne) made a journey to the moon the subject of cinema’s first science fiction film. And then of course the Russians shot Sputnik into space and a young president named Kennedy posited the same question with a whole new kind of urgency. And this time the question was ready for a real answer.
One giant leap for mankind, yes, but it was a mental leap that writers of speculative fiction (and their readers) had been willing to take before most sensible people would even entertain it.
Captain Kirk has a computer that he can talk to that will answer his questions. If he wants to know when something happened, or a bit of science he doesn’t understand, all he has to do is ask. A lot of us have a device in our pocket right now that does the same thing, but cellphones didn’t exist when the Star Trek design team were conceiving of them.
Good questions lead you to more good questions. Suppose humans were able to work together as a cohesive team in which people of all backgrounds were able to contribute equally? I mean, really, why not? Star Trek was willing to ask that question earlier than most, and asked it so potently that when Nichelle Nichols was thinking of leaving the show she was urged to stay by a man named Martin Luther King. He felt it was important that young black people were able to see Uhura on TV and feel that the human future was one they could be seen as participants in. Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry was very moved when Nichols told him this, saying he was glad someone understood what it was that he was trying to do.
King understood Star Trek because he was very good at asking important questions, questions that can change the way people think. “I have a dream…” is the beginning to one of the best “why nots” in history. Dreams are, by the way, excellent speculative fiction. They’ll take something seemingly implausible and run with it more than our waking minds would usually put up with. When we wake up we tend to shake our heads and dismiss it as a flight of fancy, but sometimes, a dream will leave us pondering the all important question. Surely such a thing could never be. But then again… “why not?”
More theft but why hot?
I stole this off a site called Cinemagorgeous. It's amazing...
The value of “Why Not?”
I like science fiction a lot.
I appreciate the name “science fiction” because it combines two things I very much enjoy. It’s a good name, though there is another term for the genre that is even better. “Speculative fiction.” That’s a descriptor that gets it just right.
Science fiction speculates. It asks new questions.
Realistic fiction has always been good at asking “why?” Why does a marriage fall apart? Why do people define themselves by what they do for a living? Why does a young person ruin a perfectly good relationship for no apparent reason?
These are good questions, worth asking. But they’re not the only questions.
One of the prime virtues of speculative fiction is that it has always been willing to ask not only “why” but “why not?” If things are this way, why are they not another way?
Most Victorians couldn’t possibly imagine going to the moon, but Jules Verne was comfortable asking “why not?” Of course, he had nowhere near the right answer. But he asked the question. So did the great filmmaker George Méliès when he (taking inspiration from Verne) made a journey to the moon the subject of cinema’s first science fiction film. And then of course the Russians shot Sputnik into space and a young president named Kennedy posited the same question with a whole new kind of urgency. And this time the question was ready for a real answer.
One giant leap for mankind, yes, but it was a mental leap that writers of speculative fiction (and their readers) had been willing to take before most sensible people would even entertain it.
Captain Kirk has a computer that he can talk to that will answer his questions. If he wants to know when something happened, or a bit of science he doesn’t understand, all he has to do is ask. A lot of us have a device in our pocket right now that does the same thing, but cellphones didn’t exist when the Star Trek design team were conceiving of them.
Good questions lead you to more good questions. Suppose humans were able to work together as a cohesive team in which people of all backgrounds were able to contribute equally? I mean, really, why not? Star Trek was willing to ask that question earlier than most, and asked it so potently that when Nichelle Nichols was thinking of leaving the show she was urged to stay by a man named Martin Luther King. He felt it was important that young black people were able to see Uhura on TV and feel that the human future was one they could be seen as participants in. Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry was very moved when Nichols told him this, saying he was glad someone understood what it was that he was trying to do.
King understood Star Trek because he was very good at asking important questions, questions that can change the way people think. “I have a dream…” is the beginning to one of the best “why nots” in history. Dreams are, by the way, excellent speculative fiction. They’ll take something seemingly implausible and run with it more than our waking minds would usually put up with. When we wake up we tend to shake our heads and dismiss it as a flight of fancy, but sometimes, a dream will leave us pondering the all important question. Surely such a thing could never be. But then again… “why not?”
The value of “Why Not?”
I like science fiction a lot.
I appreciate the name “science fiction” because it combines two things I very much enjoy. It’s a good name, though there is another term for the genre that is even better. “Speculative fiction.” That’s a descriptor that gets it just right.
Science fiction speculates. It asks new questions.
Realistic fiction has always been good at asking “why?” Why does a marriage fall apart? Why do people define themselves by what they do for a living? Why does a young person ruin a perfectly good relationship for no apparent reason?
These are good questions, worth asking. But they’re not the only questions.
One of the prime virtues of speculative fiction is that it has always been willing to ask not only “why” but “why not?” If things are this way, why are they not another way?
Most Victorians couldn’t possibly imagine going to the moon, but Jules Verne was comfortable asking “why not?” Of course, he had nowhere near the right answer. But he asked the question. So did the great filmmaker George Méliès when he (taking inspiration from Verne) made a journey to the moon the subject of cinema’s first science fiction film. And then of course the Russians shot Sputnik into space and a young president named Kennedy posited the same question with a whole new kind of urgency. And this time the question was ready for a real answer.
One giant leap for mankind, yes, but it was a mental leap that writers of speculative fiction (and their readers) had been willing to take before most sensible people would even entertain it.
Captain Kirk has a computer that he can talk to that will answer his questions. If he wants to know when something happened, or a bit of science he doesn’t understand, all he has to do is ask. A lot of us have a device in our pocket right now that does the same thing, but cellphones didn’t exist when the Star Trek design team were conceiving of them.
Good questions lead you to more good questions. Suppose humans were able to work together as a cohesive team in which people of all backgrounds were able to contribute equally? I mean, really, why not? Star Trek was willing to ask that question earlier than most, and asked it so potently that when Nichelle Nichols was thinking of leaving the show she was urged to stay by a man named Martin Luther King. He felt it was important that young black people were able to see Uhura on TV and feel that the human future was one they could be seen as participants in. Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry was very moved when Nichols told him this, saying he was glad someone understood what it was that he was trying to do.
King understood Star Trek because he was very good at asking important questions, questions that can change the way people think. “I have a dream…” is the beginning to one of the best “why nots” in history. Dreams are, by the way, excellent speculative fiction. They’ll take something seemingly implausible and run with it more than our waking minds would usually put up with. When we wake up we tend to shake our heads and dismiss it as a flight of fancy, but sometimes, a dream will leave us pondering the all important question. Surely such a thing could never be. But then again… “why not?”
Another job done...
And done early. I'm exhausted, but I finished ahead of schedule so may look into what to see in Albuquerque since my flight's not till nearly midnight. I'm doing a red-eye back to JFK then a short hopper to Buffalo.
Not a lot to tell, right now. Yesterday's travels were exhausting since they took me forever. Today was shuffling boxes of archives around and putting them in new boxes. I worked in a filthy warehouse and my nose was not happy with it. I had to take a shower when I got home just to feel human, again.
I've got a tone of e-mails to catch up on and a couple of seminars I signed up for that I didn't get a chance to catch, live. I may put all that off till in the morning; I don't check out till noon and feel a serious bit of laziness coming on.
I got the official "Kudo" from iHolly for Find Ray T, praising the action in it. Big surprise to me; I'd thought I'd been tossed aside by their festival. I wonder if I could wrangle this into some script-polishing jobs?
CAn't think right now. Head's hurting as is back. I should've soaked in the tub. Maybe I will, tomorrow. I may try to sleep on the plane, a little.
Doubt that last will happen.
Not a lot to tell, right now. Yesterday's travels were exhausting since they took me forever. Today was shuffling boxes of archives around and putting them in new boxes. I worked in a filthy warehouse and my nose was not happy with it. I had to take a shower when I got home just to feel human, again.
I've got a tone of e-mails to catch up on and a couple of seminars I signed up for that I didn't get a chance to catch, live. I may put all that off till in the morning; I don't check out till noon and feel a serious bit of laziness coming on.
I got the official "Kudo" from iHolly for Find Ray T, praising the action in it. Big surprise to me; I'd thought I'd been tossed aside by their festival. I wonder if I could wrangle this into some script-polishing jobs?
CAn't think right now. Head's hurting as is back. I should've soaked in the tub. Maybe I will, tomorrow. I may try to sleep on the plane, a little.
Doubt that last will happen.
March 7, 2016
Back to world traveler...
Ireland is set. I'll be in Dublin on St. Patrick's day, arriving 8am. I don't start packing till the next day, so I may take a bus into town and wander about, a bit, to keep myself awake, then get my rental car and head down to County Wicklow, a part of the country I've not been to. I'm there till Monday, then I fly home.
I was hoping to do a swing by London to help with the UK dealers shipping to the US for the New York Book Fair, but that fell through thanks to the long Easter weekend. It's a 4-day one, in Europe. Oh well.
What's great is how I was able to set up the flight via Jet Blue's website. They partner with Aer Lingus so I'll hop down to Terminal 5 in NYC and just change planes. Same coming back. And I'm pre-cleared through US Customs in Dublin, so I don't have to hassle with that at JFK. Tres kewl.
Tomorrow I'm off to Albuquerque, NM for a quick archive pack and ship. I'm flying Southwest but they are getting to be a pain in so many ways. I like the ability to check baggage and change flights with no penalty, but their planes are getting to be so tight, if you don't have a 30 inch waist you don't have room to open your laptop. I'm trying to get a few inches off my middle, but so far haven't done well.
Maybe a girdle...
I was hoping to do a swing by London to help with the UK dealers shipping to the US for the New York Book Fair, but that fell through thanks to the long Easter weekend. It's a 4-day one, in Europe. Oh well.
What's great is how I was able to set up the flight via Jet Blue's website. They partner with Aer Lingus so I'll hop down to Terminal 5 in NYC and just change planes. Same coming back. And I'm pre-cleared through US Customs in Dublin, so I don't have to hassle with that at JFK. Tres kewl.
Tomorrow I'm off to Albuquerque, NM for a quick archive pack and ship. I'm flying Southwest but they are getting to be a pain in so many ways. I like the ability to check baggage and change flights with no penalty, but their planes are getting to be so tight, if you don't have a 30 inch waist you don't have room to open your laptop. I'm trying to get a few inches off my middle, but so far haven't done well.
Maybe a girdle...
March 6, 2016
Back on track...
Moving along on Underground Guy. Dev is back to happy and Reg is pleased. Tawfi is still giving me the silent treatment but I think he'll come around once I get to his first real section. This is not going to be a tender loving book or one that explores one man's attraction for another or anything touchy-feely; it's going to be dark and mean and, I hope, suspenseful.
But that's what I want -- harsh and in-your-face. It won't be as much so as HTRASG was, but that book was formed to be a fuck you to the world, thanks to Curt. I remember when I got my free copies of it -- the only one I got free copies of, despite it being in my publishing contract; I announced it at my writer's group and showed them, and you never saw so many eyes go round in shock. I don't think they were able to reconcile my mild image or my romantic screenplays with that title. What can I say? I contain all sorts of voices.
I'm reminded of this because I spent part of the day putting up the first few pages of The Lyons' Den on its Facebook page. For some reason that option is being offered for it, but not on the pages for David Martin, Bobby Carapisi or French Connection Blues. I have no idea why...except it's Facebook being Facebook.
Anyway, I had to shift everything to jpegs so as I was going over it to make sure it had come out readable, I happened across this bit I wrote for Tad to say, on page 4 -- "... And so what if I've seen you say things that would've put you in a padded room, fifty years ago? I know that's merely you being creative because I have seen it work. ..."
I may reread LD just to remind myself of how I see myself...
But that's what I want -- harsh and in-your-face. It won't be as much so as HTRASG was, but that book was formed to be a fuck you to the world, thanks to Curt. I remember when I got my free copies of it -- the only one I got free copies of, despite it being in my publishing contract; I announced it at my writer's group and showed them, and you never saw so many eyes go round in shock. I don't think they were able to reconcile my mild image or my romantic screenplays with that title. What can I say? I contain all sorts of voices.
I'm reminded of this because I spent part of the day putting up the first few pages of The Lyons' Den on its Facebook page. For some reason that option is being offered for it, but not on the pages for David Martin, Bobby Carapisi or French Connection Blues. I have no idea why...except it's Facebook being Facebook.
Anyway, I had to shift everything to jpegs so as I was going over it to make sure it had come out readable, I happened across this bit I wrote for Tad to say, on page 4 -- "... And so what if I've seen you say things that would've put you in a padded room, fifty years ago? I know that's merely you being creative because I have seen it work. ..."
I may reread LD just to remind myself of how I see myself...
